


The Demon Earl's Deal

by B_does_the_write_thing



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, Regency Romance, Rumbelle Big Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 06:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 68,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18138899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_does_the_write_thing/pseuds/B_does_the_write_thing
Summary: With the fate of Avonlea in the balance, Belle French will do anything to save her village, including making a deal with the Demon Earl of Lonsdale himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the 2019 Rumbelle Big Bang. A huge thank you to the runners of this great program as well as to my partner RumpledSpinister. She was a wonderful partner throughout the process and continually surprised and delighted me with her scene interpretations, fresh ideas and supported me every step of the journey.
> 
> You can see her work here: https://rumpledspinster.tumblr.com/post/183509844501/rumpledspinster-here-with-my-contribution-to-the

_Wales, March 1810_

Everyone in Avonlea knew the story of the Demon Earl.

Robert Gold had first appeared at Askham Hall as a young child to everyone’s surprise, including his father, Lord Malcolm Gold, Lord of Lonsdale. There was no denying the parentage; the young boy was Malcolm’s spitting image.

The surprising series of events was chalked up to youthful indiscretions and the boy was promptly shipped off to boarding schools. Avonlea almost forgot about the Lord of Lonsdale’s bastard son entirely until the day, nearly six years ago, when he had returned to Askham Hall as a wedded man with a bride on his arm.

The Demon Earl lasted less than a year before he decamped back to London. He left his young wife in Wales with her father-in-law and her new mother-in-law, a lady younger than she was.

Stories leaked out from Askham Hall about the devious debauchery Lord Robert engaged in while he was in London. Servants often noticed the ladies of the house in tears, and the Lord of Lonsdale in fits of rage over the reports in the paper about his son cutting a swath through every boudoir of London.

He ordered his errant son back home but less than a year later...Lord Malcolm Gold and his daughter-in-law were dead. Robert Gold disappeared the very same night and had not been heard from in four years.

Until today.

Standing along the path overlooking the valley, Belle French gazed out at Askham Hall. Smoke curled up from the chimneys which meant the rumors were true; after four years, the Lord of Lonsdale had finally come home.

No one had known where he had gone. There had been no word, no whisper, not even a mention of the errant lord in the society papers. So, of course, in his absence, speculation had run rampant throughout Avonlea.

Some said the new Lord Lonsdale had pledged his soul to the devil and had since been off cavorting with demons. Others whispered he had gone off to profit from Napoleon’s bloody war on the Continent, while the bolder among them insisted he had gone to sell secrets to the dictator himself in exchange for refuge in France.

Rumors varied from source to source but everyone agreed upon one thing: Lord Robert Gold, was capable of anything.

Which was why, despite all the horrific rumors, Belle was on her way to Askham Hall.

\--

Gold had been home for less than twenty-four hours and he already felt buried alive. His solicitor, Sidney Glass, had been firm that he could not put this off any longer, so Gold had returned to Askham Hall to put an end to this chapter of his life, once and for all. If he was truly going to be free of his past, he had to sever the last tie, the matter of the estate.

The halls were too quiet. The few remaining servants avoided him, scurrying out of his way less he curse them. He had heard the whispers, he knew the rumors. If he occasionally began to mutter something under his breath in Greek, just to watch a maid hurry away in terror, it was only for a moment’s respite from the eyes following him from room to room.

The head of house was the sole exception. “My lord,” Dove announced as he swung open the bedroom’s door, uninvited and unannounced. “I’ve brought you up the tea you requested.”

Turning from the window, Gold frowned. “I don’t recall requesting anything, Dove.”

The older man bowed. “My apologies,” he said as he left the tray on the table. HIs eyes flickered in disapproval around the guest bedroom. “We’ve finished airing out the state chambers,” he declared. “Perhaps those would be more suitable?”

Gold flinched. He had no interest in using his father’s rooms. He would rather barricade the door entirely then so much as take a step inside. As for his old rooms, it had merely taken one look at his bed for the memories of Milah to return.

These past four years, he had managed to banish her from his mind but her ghost had been awaiting him in their marriage bed. So, he had retreated to a guest room on the other side of the manor.

Let the household gossip about his choice of rooms. It did not matter to him. He was only here long enough to break the trust, to sell these cursed stones and leave the ghosts to some other poor sod.

The head of house lingered, clearly about to make his case on why a lord should not be staying in these lesser rooms. Uninterested in a lecture, Gold brushed past Dove towards the door. “I’ll be in my study,” he grumbled.

Arriving in the study, Gold tried and failed to find something to occupy his time when a flash of amber caught his eye. A bottle of brandy had been left out with a tumbler nearby. He stared at it for a long moment, debating.

Finally, figuring he had nothing else to do, and facing down a long afternoon of boredom and painful memories, he uncapped the brandy and poured himself a tall glass. It may not be the answer, but it was a solution.

\--

Despite growing up in Avonlea, Belle had never actually been this close to Askham Hall. The great stone facade sprawled in every direction against the horizon of the sky, the dark stone glistening in the spring sun as if alive.

Belle lingered upon the stairs, mustering her courage. She had no experience with lords or great houses, but there was no helping that now. Steeling her spine, she stepped to the knocker, raised up to indicate the master of the house was at home and knocked.

It reverberated in the inner caverns of the great house. Belle pulled self-consciously on her sleeve and reached up to fix her bonnet. She had taken time to arrange her appearance just so, but now that she was actually here, she felt undressed. It did not take long for the door to open to reveal a somber fellow, whom Belle recognized at once as Askham Hall’s head of house, Dove.

Everyone in Avonlea knew the skeleton staff still employed by the errant lord; they were fortunate compared to the rest of Avonlea, with steady pay and lodgings while the rest of Avonlea had declined in the years that had followed the tragedies.

“Good afternoon,” Belle greeted. “I’m here to speak to Lord Lonsdale.”

The head of house recognized her as well. Being the town’s schoolmistress lent her a certain air of notoriety. “Miss French,” he said, though he did not open the door. “I don’t believe his lordship is receiving anyone today.”

She had not expected to be turned away at the door. She felt a bit silly that she had not considered that possibility. She plastered her best smile upon her face. “It’s a simple matter,” she said, which was not exactly true. “Perhaps Lord Lonsdale has just a moment?”

Dove wavered but with a slight tilt of his head, he gestured for her to follow after him.  
The hall was as great as Belle had expected. It was white marble with a great chandelier hanging overhead, glistening in the early spring sunlight but there was an unearthly stillness as if the hall was awaiting something.

Dove escorted Belle down a long corridor. Every room they passed showed signs of neglect and age, cluttered and crammed with furnishings. It was a shame to see such a beautiful house brought low but if the rumors were to be believed, this house had seen terrible things and perhaps it was for the best.

Caught up in staring at her surroundings, Belle almost walked straight into Dove when he stopped to open the library door. “Miss Belle French to see you, my lord,” Dove announced without so much as a look back at her.

Belle did not give the earl a chance to refuse to admit her. Seizing her courage, she walked straight past Dove into the library.- only to falter at the sight before her.

She hadn’t known what she expected the Demon Earl to look like, but it was not this. The earl was standing at a window, clad only in his shirt sleeves. The sun cut through the thin fabric to show the planes and lines of his frame beneath the muslin.

He was not a particularly physically intimidating man but there was a stillness about him, an air of power, that proved that this was indeed the man who had spawned so many legends in Avonlea. He was not a typically handsome man but there was something about him that drew the eye, invited one to look closer.

The door closed behind her as Dove departed. Jolted out of her reverie, Belle turned back to the door, rather wishing the head of house had lingered. Belle had never spoken to a member of the peerage before and suddenly felt wrong-footed, uncertain where to start.

When she did not speak, the earl lifted an eyebrow at her. “And who would you be?”

“Belle French, my lord.”

He waved his arm, the glass in his hand catching the sunlight. “Yes, I know that, Miss French, as you were just announced mere seconds ago. I meant who are you to me? It is considered the highest of impropriety for a lady to call upon a lord unaccompanied without so much as an introduction.”

Biting back an angry retort, she managed, “I’m the schoolmistress in Avonlea.”

“Ah.” Gold waved his hand and turned back to the window. “Barely home a day and already they come knocking,” he muttered to himself before saying loudly for her benefit,” I assume you are here seeking funds for a worthy cause. I’d advise you to have your husband or father apply to my steward in the future rather than inconveniencing me. Good day, Miss French.”

At his curt dismissal, Belle’s temper flickered and caught. “I am unwed and my father has been dead and buried ten years this August. Besides, this is not some simple matter for your steward, my lord.”

“It never is,” he said over his shoulder. He strolled over a decanter-covered cabinet and refilled the glass in his hand. “Everyone thinks their matters are too important for a steward. I wonder what I pay him for. ”

“Lord Lonsdale,” Belle said, starting again. ”I’m here because the people of Avonlea are suffering, and you are the only one in a position to help them. It will cost you little in time or money.”

“I don’t care how little it costs,” Gold snapped. “I don’t want anything to do with your village or the people in it. Which includes you.” He gestured toward the door. “So, I suggest you leave before things get uncivil.”

From her perspective, things were already uncivil, so Belle did not see that as a reason to leave. She gave up on any niceties, planting her hands on her hips. “I am not asking for your help, I am demanding it as your role of lord requires of you. Now, shall I explain now or wait for you in the parlor until you are sober?”

Lord Gold lowered his glass. “I wouldn’t speak to me like that if I were you,” he warned as he took a step closer. “Last I checked, you were in my home. Have a care how you speak to me.”

Belle had prepared for a certain level of antagonism and had meant to meet it with a calm, level head but as usual, her temper was starting to get a hold of her. “Your father was a good man,” Belle reminded him. “He did a great deal for the people of Avonlea. The poor fund, the chapel-”

“I am not my father.”

She had touched a nerve. Belle crossed her arms and blustered, “No, it appears the apple has fallen rather far from the tree. Since you have inherited, you haven’t done a thing for the estate or the village.”

“Nor do I intend to,” he picked his drink back up and finished it in one swallow.

He meant it too.

“How can you say such a thing?” she asked him. “No one is that heartless.”

Gold smiled. “Miss French, your innocence is touching.” He leaned against the edge of his table and crossed his arms. “You had best depart before I shatter any of your other dearly beloved illusions.”

She gaped at him. “Don’t you care that people are suffering?”

Gold thought for a moment. “No.”

“What would change your mind?” Belle pressed him. She had not come all this way to just give up

Gold waved his hand. “My help is not available for any price you would be willing to pay.”

“How can I know that unless you name your price?”

This caught his attention. He stilled and the air in the room shifted. “You want to make a deal?” he drawled, taking a step closer to her. He crooked a finger and beckoned her closer. “And what exactly do you have to offer, Miss French?”

Too late, Belle realized what could be insinuated from her reckless words. A flush spread across her face but she tried not to avert her eyes from his smug countenance as he sat upon the desk.

When she could not find her voice, Gold stood, victorious. “I fail to see why I should spend my time and energy when there is nothing in it for me.” He retrieved his glass and poured himself another glass of brandy, returning to the other side of the desk. “Close the door on your way out, Miss French.”

Belle was tempted to do just that, but she had to try one last time, not for her sake but for the sake of Avonlea. “I will not leave until you have named a price for your aid.”

The Demon Earl stared back at her, his face an impassive mask. ‘You will not like my answer.”

No, she rather thought she wouldn’t. Still. “At least name your cost.”

A shadow crossed his face, calculating and triumphant. “I’ll name my price, but it’s one I’m confident that you will refuse to pay.”

“What is it?” she asked warily.

“What I want,” he paused for a deep drink of brandy, “is you.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Me?” Belle repeated, certain she had not heard him correctly. “What on earth do you mean by that?”

Gold lounged out on the couch, his shirtsleeves tight across his chest. Belle rather wished he would put on his jacket. She had not seen many men in such a state of undress and as usual, her curiosity was getting the better of her. Her eyes kept straying to the muscles of his arms despite herself.

“Living here is rather dull. And for whatever reason, you aren’t scared of me. So, you will come live at Askham Hall with me and as long as you stay, I will help your little village to the best of my abilities.”

“That is- that is utterly ridiculous,” Belle protested. “What purpose could such an arrangement possible serve?”

“Who cares?” Gold replied. “That is my price.” A cruel smile materialized on his face. “I know the rumors, Miss French. I know what they think of me. Imagine what they’ll think of you if you were to uproot your life, move in here, be seen with me. The rumors will write themselves. So, do you still want to throw your lot in with the Demon Earl, Miss French?”

Belle regarded him intently. She knew the rumors as well as anyone else and though very drunk, the man before her hardly looked cruel despite the things people had claimed he had done. She weighed her options, sizing him up, considering. Finally, “Are you in earnest, sir? ”

“Deadly. As I see it, if I am drawn into your scheme, I will not be free of this valley for the foreseeable future. It’s only fair for you to lose the life you had thought to live as well.” He wagged a finger at her. “I did warn you the price would be too high.”

It was the smug, self-satisfied way he waved her toward the door. He assumed he had won, that he knew her. It was this that made Belle toss consequences aside. “Fine. Then, I accept your proposal, my lord.”

He nearly spilled his brandy. “You what?”

“I said, I accept your proposal, my lord. My presence in your household in exchange for your altruism.”

Gold scoffed. “You’d truly sacrifice your life as you know it just to best me?”

“This is not about besting you, my lord,” Belle told him. “This is about the very lives of every man, woman, and child in the valley.”

He regarded her for a long, hard moment. “Very well, Miss French. You will get exactly what you wanted. I’ll expect you tomorrow morning..”

Belle drew her cloak tighter. “I haven’t even told you what needs to be done.”

He shrugged. “There will be plenty of time for that.”

“Then, I shall see you tomorrow, my lord,” she murmured as she fought against her own whirlwind of thoughts. Without a further word, Belle opened the door and slipped from the library.

It was a long walk back to the village, plenty of time to change her mind. Yet, Belle had always been stubborn and this was not about her. It was about Avonlea. She loved every stone in the village, every tile in the roofs. The people were her people.

She had meant every word she had said to that drunken rogue. No price he could name would ever be too high. She would have sold her very soul if he had asked.

As it was, she had sold enough. As the afternoon waned, the temperature began to drop. Belle hastened her steps. There was much to do before the morning.

Instead of going straight home, Belle stopped by the house at the edge of the village. Two young girls were playing outside, and when they saw her at the corner, they both spilled into the lane to greet her. “Miss French!” they said in perfect unison, hiding their hands behind their backs lest she see what they had been up to in the garden.

“Emma, Lily,” Belle greeted, eyeing them carefully lest they produce a slug or frog for her to examine. Both girls had been known to bring all sorts of wildlife into school.

Kittens, Belle could handle, but the day they had brought in a garden snake had upended the school day entirely.

She was spared their surprise when the door swung open and Mary Margaret came out into the dusk. “Leave Ms. French alone, girls,” Mary Margaret scolded, though there was laughter in her voice. “She doesn’t want to see those worms any more than I did. Come on in, Belle, I just put on a pot of tea.”

Belle joined her friend in the kitchen to find the man of the household already home from the mines. David had scrubbed his face and hands, but the smell of smoke and stone still wafted off his person. He raised a weary hand in greeting as Mary Margaret slid a mug in front of him.

“Where did you go off to this afternoon, Belle?” Mary Margaret said as she poured her a cup. “Emma said you let the children go home early. That’s not like you.”

Not seeing a reason to postpone the inevitable, Belle told them the truth. “I went to Askham Hall to ask Lord Lonsdale to help the village.”

Mary Margaret nearly dropped the teapot. “You spoke with him? The Demon Earl? Belle, what were you thinking!”

David was a bit more diplomatic. “Was that... wise?”

“Probably not.” Belle described the bargain she and Lonsdale had struck.

By the end, her friends were staring at her with varying degrees of shock and concern. “You can’t possibly,” Mary Margaret said with a firm shake of her head. “You’re an educated woman, the town’s schoolmistress. How can you give up your life just to live at his beck and call-”

Belle lifted her hands. “What else is there to do? The pit is on its last legs. If the Lord of Lonsdale can do anything, I had an obligation to our village to at least try.”

“At the price of your entire life,” Mary Margaret reminded her. “What if Lonsdale doesn’t do as he promised? Worse, what if does to you whatever he did to his father? Or drive you out into a storm to drown like he did his poor wife?”

David cleared his throat. “We don’t really know what happened Mary Margaret. Plenty of rumors but he was never charged with their deaths.”

“His wife died fleeing from that house in fear for her life,” Mary Margaret said stubbornly. “And now Belle is going to go live there? Absolutely not. I forbid it.”

“It is Belle’s decision,” David reminded his wife. He caught Belle’s eye. “But that doesn’t mean I like it either. What exactly would you be doing there?”

In fact, she had no idea what Lord Lonsdale expected of her but Belle hurried to assure their fears. “I’ll be working as a housekeeper of sorts.” Which wasn’t quite true but wasn’t quite a lie either. “I doubt I’ll even see much of Lord Gold outside of my duties.”

“A housekeeper!” Mary Margaret snorted. “And what are you going to do about the school, Belle? Who’s going to teach the children if you abandon them to satisfy the whims of a madman?”

It stung as Mary Margaret had intended it to. Belle kept her face as serene as possible. She had already decided on who would fill her role in her absence; it was why she had stopped here first. “I hoped that you might take over classes.” Belle looked to her friend. “If you would be willing?”

Mary Margaret's eyes widened in excitement before guilt fell over her features. “Me? Oh, do you think I could? I don’t have much experience besides Sunday school.”

“You’ll do wonderfully,” Belle assured her. Mary Margaret had always been quick to learn and had a way with children. “It’s not too different from Sunday school. The only difference is there is less focus on scripture. Oh, and you’d, of course, draw the schoolmistress’ salary.”

As Belle had guessed, the prospect of wages was all it took. David and Mary Margaret looked at each other for a moment, before she nodded. “I’ll do my best….But I’m not as well-read as you are...what if the other parents want to hire a new schoolmaster?”

It was possible but Belle doubted anyone would put the effort into finding someone. Mary Margaret was well known in the village and well liked.

“If you have any questions, I’ll only be two miles away; however, I’m certain you’ll do wonderfully,” Belle assured her.

Outside, Emma and Lily began to shout. Mary Margaret moved towards the sound but David waved her back to the table and went outside to see what the girls were doing.

Mary Margaret leaned back in her chair to sip her tea. Her face was serious. ”You be careful, Belle. A lord takes what he wants and that man-”

Belle waved her concern away. “The Lord of Lonsdale has far too much arrogance to force a woman who isn’t willing.”

“Still,” Mary Margaret held up her hand. “Just...be careful.”

David came back with Emma in tow. They invited Belle to stay for dinner, but she had too much to do before the morning so she said her goodbyes. She ignored the concerned looks they shared when they thought she wasn’t looking.

Once home, it didn’t take long for Belle to pack her few possessions. She did not know how long she would be at Askham Hall. Surely it would not take long for the earl to see the truth of her claims. The valley was dying and if something wasn’t done soon...

Too restless to sleep, Belle drifted through the rooms of her cottage, brushing familiar objects as memories courted her. She had been born in this cottage, had never lived anywhere else. Even the small dusty, forgotten drawing-room she had seen today was grander than her entire cottage but she would miss the plain, sturdy furniture and the comforting walls.

She moved to the overflowing bookcase at the end of the sitting room, the only luxurious thing in the cottage. Her mother had been the daughter of Welsh gentry and she had brought her love of learning to her family. Belle had read every book in the cottage at least twice and knew some by heart. After her mother’s passing, Belle had honored her memory by teaching a few other women in the village to read and write.

When the Countess of Lonsdale had set up an endowment to establish a charity school in the village, Belle had assumed Avonlea would hire a male teacher. To her surprise, the villagers had asked her.

When her father had passed the next year, Belle had not been dissolute, forced to go live with relations or marry. Instead, her twenty pounds a year salary let her continue living in her childhood home and Belle was grateful for it.

She would have happily lived her life as a schoolmistress but it seemed fate had other plans for her. She was not ignorant enough not to know the entire village would be full of gossip and intrigue when news came that Belle French was living at Askham Hall.

Belle shied away from what people might say, not wanting to think of it. She had known these people all her life, had grown up with them but small-town gossip was not to be underestimated.

As she glanced around her cottage, a shiver ran down her spine as if she was seeing this all for the last time...this phase of her life was ending. The next chapter would start at Askham Hall and change her forever.

For better or for worse.


	3. Chapter 3

Gold awoke with a throbbing pain in his head. He lay still, eyes unopened. He moved his head a fraction, then stopped as pain radiated down his spine. He had been a damned fool to try and find the bottom of the brandy bottle and now he was paying for it.

The door swung open and soft footsteps approached as his valet came into check if he was awake. Gold, preferring to be left alone, kept his eyes shut. The footsteps paused. Then, icy water sluiced over Gold in his bed.

“Bloody hell!” he roared as he came up swinging. He’d kill the bastard, he’d bloody kill him-

Belle French stood a safe distance away with an empty china pitcher in her hand. She was a small and rather slight woman, but there was no mistaking her as anything less than formidable. In fact, if it was not for her plain clothes, he would have thought her a dowager duchess dropped in his chambers.

“What the devil did you do that for?” he demanded as he plucked at the cold water saturating his nightshirt.

Belle had a polite smile on her face as if she had not in fact just dumped ice water upon a sleeping man in his own bed. “Tomorrow morning has turned into tomorrow afternoon,” she told him. “I’ve been waiting for hours for you to wake up. Long enough to have a cup of tea, organize my request for Avonlea and make a brief survey of the house to see what needs to be done to open the place properly.”

“Seems like you had enough to keep you busy until winter,” he grumbled. “Why bother me?”

“You didn’t tell the staff I was arriving. They’re waiting for your instructions on what to do with the schoolmistress in their midst. I thought I’d hurry that along.” She took a towel from the washstand and handed it to him, no hint of apology.

Grumbling, he dried his hair and face, then blotted the worst of the water from his nightshirt. Belle watched all this with a judgemental eye. “Do you get drunk often, Lord Lonsdale?”

“Seldomly,” he confessed. “Fetch my valet and send him up with hot shaving water. Then, tell the kitchen to brew a strong pot of tea. I’ll be down shortly. And if anyone questions you, just tell them you’re a guest and to be treated as such.”

Belle arched a brow at this but departed without further argument. Gold climbed out of the bed, dripping puddles on the floor. He had no idea what he had gotten himself into. He had never thought the schoolmistress would honor their deal.

He vividly remembered how crude he had been, how he had insinuated things that any woman would have shied away from in horror but something told him that Belle French was not just any woman.

He pulled the soaking shirt from over his head and tossed it to the floor with a splat.

\--

Exactly half an hour to the minute later, the Lord of Lonsdale appeared in the breakfast parlor. No traces of over-indulgence remained. Except for his over-long hair and the bags about his dark eyes, he looked every inch a fashionable London gentleman.

Belle decided she preferred it when he was informal. His present garb made her all too aware of the vast gap between their stations in life. It was hard to think of him as an earl when he was half drunk or hungover in bed, but here and now, there was no mistaking him as anything but a nobleman.

An image of Gold in bed, sleeping peacefully flashed through her mind’s eye. His shirt had been pulled to the side to reveal a glimpse of his bare chest. With the linen stretched over his shoulders- Belle had thought to dump water on him served him right but she had been unprepared for the image of his nightshirt sticking to his upper body and leaving nothing to the imagination.

Unsettled by that memory, Belle stood to pour him a cup of tea but he motioned for her to sit beside him. Belle hesitated but after a moment, she took a seat.

“Now, Miss French. Pray tell, what ills are befalling Avonlea and what are your expectations of me?”

Belle was prepared. She cleared her throat and folded her hands before her. “The primary issues are economic in nature. I’ve traced them back to various causes stemming from this estate such as when the upland commons were fenced off.”

Gold considered this for a moment. His father had passed a land act about ten years ago. It had not been popular in the village. “Were many people displaced when the estate reclaimed that land?”

Belle nodded. “Your father allowed affected families to petition the estate for aid, but most of the farmers were too proud. They relocated to Avonlea and got work at the mine.”

“Well, then, what’s the issue?”

Belle’s lips thinned. “Jobs are scarce in Avonlea. Are you familiar with the theory of supply and demand?”

Gold had to fight back a grin at her tone. “They may have mentioned something or other about it at Oxford,” he answered.

Belle nodded, satisfied. “Well, with the deluge of labor available, men desperate enough to work for whatever offered, the mine manager lowered wages across the workforce.”

Not unheard of. “Perhaps he did so to invest in better equipment?” Mines were dangerous places. Any manager worth their salt made sure to invest in the latest innovations lest they risk a loss of life. And subsequently loss of profit.

To his surprise, Belle shook her head. .”Gaston is not interested in anything but his immediate profit. You can ask the widows begging for scraps every week at the market.”

Gold frowned. “How many men have died in the mine in the last four years?”

It did not escape her that he chose to ask about the time he had been away. It indicated he may have known the state of his lands before his departure. It gave Belle an inkling of hope. “Sixteen men, and four boys,” she told him. She knew each of their names, their families and where what accident had befallen each and every one of them but she did not elaborate and Gold did not ask for details.

“Unfortunate,” he murmured as he poured himself another cup of tea. He did not add milk or sugar, or even wait for it to cool off before raising it to his lips. “Still...mining has always been hazardous. The colliers I recall from Avonlea have always taken a certain pride in their jobs.”

“They know mining and the dangers and pitfalls,” Belle agreed,” just as they know when there is something wrong.”

“True but I’m not certain there is much I can do.” he raised a hand before Belle could counter his statement. “While I own the land, the pit is leased to a mining company. The owner and the manager are the ones who can impact systematic changes-”

“Gaston is impossible,” Belle said.

Her tone gave her away. He gazed at her for a long moment. “You’ve tried to reason with him?”

Belle’s jaw tightened. “Amusingly enough, he offered me a deal as you did, my lord,” she said without flinching. “He would gift me a new steam engine as a wedding gift. I refused him,” Belle added unnecessarily with a glance down at her bare ring finger.

“Oh? What happened to no price is too high?”

Belle lifted her eyes to his and he was surprised at the steely resolve staring back at him. “There is a difference between a gentleman's deal and a death sentence, my lord.”

Gold filed this away for later reflection. “Is Lord Killian Jones still the mine owner?” He had known Killian Jones for most of his life. They were not...friends exactly but Jones had purchased the mine from the Gold family with grand plans to turn it around and bring into the modern age.

At Belle’s nod, Gold suggested, “Well, then, surely you could go talk to him? It might be less trouble then entering into our current arrangement?”

Belle barely resisted scoffing at him. “Do you really think I had not explored every possibility, my lord? Jones hasn’t set foot in the valley for four years. If he had returned prior to your’s, I might very well be at his breakfast table this morn instead of your’s.”

“Four years,” he repeated. Jones had been ready to sell his commission to the navy, settle down. It had been as much of a surprise to Gold as the rest of society when the handsome vice admiral had settled down in Wales of all places but Jones had been set on his path. What had happened to make him leave Avonlea behind just as Gold had?

Whatever it was, it most likely did not concern him. Killian had always had his secrets. Gold turned back to the topic at hand. “If this mine manager and Jones won’t make changes, what role would you have me play?”

“I’m aware that Lord Jones is an old acquaintance of yours. He often visited Askham Hall. If you can persuade him to make improvements, perhaps nothing else will be required of you.”

“He did?” Gold considered this. Jones was all the things his father had wanted Gold to be, hardly surprising if his father had developed a friendship with the young, wild naval officer who had taken the mind of their hands. “Well, personally, I haven’t seen or spoken to Jones since…” his voice trailed away. “Have you considered he’s satisfied with the way the mine is running?”

“If that is the case, then the solution is simple.”

“Oh?” Gold prompted.

“Create other kinds of employment,” Belle finished.

This was the true test of their bargain. It was one thing to call upon old friends and another to start a new enterprise that even with the coffers of Askham Hall could easily bankrupt a man.

“And you have a business model for said employment?” Gold guessed. At Belle’s nod, he chuckled. “Well, then, by all means, proceed, Miss French.”

Belle rubbed her hands along her skirt under the table. Energy was crackling through her veins like a storm and she was desperate to alleviate her nerves. Gold was utterly stoic as he awaited her to share her proposal. A plan that had taken her nearly two years to conceive.

Pulling out a sheaf of papers, Belle slid them across to Gold who began to flip through it. “Despite being the valley’s largest landowner, the Lonsdale earldom has done nothing to encourage any advances in scientific agriculture. Your tenants still utilize the Tudor methods.”

Gold flickered through her notes and annotations. ”Thorough,” he said after a long pause.

“I’m not an expert by any means,” Belle confessed, “but I’ve studied reports on the subject and noted some techniques that may be beneficial in our community, namely improved breeding and tillage.”

“There is something on which you are not an expert?” Gold said as he laid the papers down on the table before him.

“I like to read,” Belle said, preparing for the condescending response she usually received. “I confess I’m a bit behind on the latest reports. Avonlea does not always receive the latest news in a timely manner.”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t arguing your logic or your knowledge. This is well thought out and reasoned.” Before Belle could process the compliment, he continued, “Bringing Avonlea farming out of the Middle Ages should keep me busy for the next decade or two. In the case I have some spare time, are there any other requests you have of me?”

“There is one more thing.”

“Of course there is,” Gold said as he leaned back in his chair. “Out with it, Miss French, before I die of old age.”

She cast him a dour look. “You may not remember, but you own a slate quarry at the far end of the valley.”

“I am well aware of my possessions, Miss French”

Belle balled her hands in her lap at the icy tenor of his tone. Business, she reminded herself sternly, this is business. There was no use in getting distracted or flustered. Tempering her emotions, she said, “If you were to re-open it, the quarry would be a profitable business for you.”

“And if another employment opportunity presents itself in Avonlea, this Gaston fellow would have to improve conditions at the pit or lose his best workers,” Gold concluded. “Interesting. But the quarry hasn’t been used in years. Is there even enough slate for a worthwhile commercial development?”

“The field is large and the quality has always been excellent.”

“And you know this how?”

Belle couldn’t help but smile. “I do my research, Lord Gold.”

“Hmm,” he said, eyes locked on her for a long moment. Belle’s stomach tightened and the air in the room grew rather warm. He returned his attention to the papers at his elbow. “The problem would be the cost of transporting the slate. A tramway would have to be built to the river to be loaded onto a barge.”

Belle, in her research, had not stumbled upon anything called a tramway. Feeling foolish, she asked, “A tramway...Is that a road of sorts?”

Gold did not tease her for her ignorance. He held up two hands in parallel with each other. “A pair of wooden or iron tracks are built and horses pull wagons along the rails.”

It sounded like a simple solution to a long term issue of getting materials to their means of transport. “Expensive?” Belle guessed.

Gold nodded. “Probably why the coal pit doesn’t have one. And I’m not certain there’s even a wharf at the coast to load the ships…”

“But if you built one, you could ship the slate anywhere.” Belle warmed to this idea. “You could even charge the coal pit to use it. Gaston often complains about the shipping facilities being unable to handle the transportation.” Belle glanced at him out the corner of her eye. ”It could be a very profitable operation, Lord Lonsdale.”

“Stop trying to use profit as bait,” he warned her. “It doesn’t interest me.” He tapped his fingers along the mahogany table. “Do you have an estimate on the costs to develop the quarry?”

Belle’s annual salary was twenty pounds. She had no idea how many thousands of pounds it would take to redevelop the quarry operation and told him as much. “It is more than you can afford?”

“I didn’t say that.” Gold got to his feet. “Do you ride?”

“Do I ride?” she repeated, thrown off by this abrupt switch of topics.

“I asked you,” Gold responded with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Meet me at the stables in fifteen minutes.”

“Wait,” Belle called after him as he headed out of the parlor. “Where are we going?”

“To see this quarry of yours.”  
\--

Belle didn’t have a riding habit, but she had brought along some old clothes which she could make do with. She dressed quickly, not quite trusting that Gold wouldn’t change his mind or get distracted by something else. Lords were notorious for lack of follow through.

When she arrived at the stables, Gold was already there. “Are boys breeches the fashion in Avonlea’s riding circles?” he asked as he surveyed her attire.

No, they were not but Belle did not let him know that. For one thing, she hadn’t ridden since she was much younger and for a second, “There are few women in the valley who ride. None of us could afford to have an expensive gown with only one limited purpose,” she told him.

“Touche,” he nodded. “In that case, Miss French, this is Chip,” he said as if introducing two great ladies.

A pure-bred Welsh pony, Chip had a dappled muzzle which Gold stroked in greeting. Chip simpered shamelessly as he tilted his head to allow Gold better access. Belle caught herself staring at Gold’s fingers and wretched her focus away. “He’s a well-mannered and an intelligent lad. He’s too small for me but he should do nicely for you.”

A groom emerged from the tack room with a sidesaddle. Gold waved a hand in dismissal. “Fetch a regular saddle for Miss French,” he instructed as he opened Chip’s stall.

The groom spared a curious glance at Belle before he did what he was told. Within minutes, the groom had the pony saddled just as Gold brought out a great black stallion. The creature was high spirited, pulling at his reins impatiently. Gold waved the groom away (to the man’s relief) and began to saddle the horse himself.

“He’s stunning,” Belle admired. “What’s his name?”

Gold grinned. “The Dark One,” he answered and the stallion snorted in agreement. “The breeder’s son had a way with words,” he said in way of explanation. “Who was I to argue when it's such an appropriate moniker for the beast?”

The groom offered to help her mount, and Belle gratefully accepted his assistance. Thankfully, Chip was as good-natured as promised.

Gold led the way to a narrow trail that ran high up across the edge of the valley. It was several miles to the old quarry and they rode single file in silence. It was unusually warm for early spring in the Welsh countryside and the entire valley was on full display below.

Unused to riding, certain muscles protested as the ride went on. Belle trusted Chip to stay on the path. The pony had no interest in the stallion's theatrics, though the same could not be said of Belle’s focus.

Despite the beauty of the countryside across the hills and valleys, Belle’s eyes were constantly returning to Gold. He looked as natural on the back of the stallion as he had been while he had reviewed the business proposal Belle had drawn out. For all the dark and terrible rumors swirling about the Demon Earl, in the light of day, he was just another man, a rather surprising one at that.

As the trail widened, they were able to travel side by side. “What are you smiling about?” he asked as he pulled up alongside her.

Belle flushed. “I’ve been told that what I’m thinking often shows on my face. Hardly a good quality in a schoolmistress.”

“It’s refreshing,” Gold said as he reined in his stallion from rushing ahead along the path. “However, you should never play cards.”

He said it in such a deadpan tone of voice, Belle could not help laughing. “I will endeavor to avoid any offers that arise.”

“It’s not just cards,” he warned. “You will need to develop a thick skin. In this world, any sign of emotion is shown as guilt.”

Deep down, Belle knew he was trying to help but his advice chafed her. “I see,” she murmured.

“You’ll have to learn to control your emotions,” he continued. “If they know they can get a rise out of you, they’ll bait you at every turn. You may be blameless, but they’ll twist your stammers and blushes into admissions of guilt-”

“And how is it that you know the best way to handle small town gossip?” Belle challenged him. “As I recall, you fled rather than face it.”

Her barb hit home. Gold’s jaw tightened. “True,” he said through clenched teeth. “But perhaps you might think differently after we visit London.”

Belle’s hand tightened on the reins and faithful Chip stopped dead at the sudden shift of pressure. “London!”

Gold continued on ahead. “I have business to attend to. You will accompany me.”

London! Belle had always wanted to see...always wondered what the great city might look like but she had never actually dreamed- but she couldn’t let herself get distracted. She had set out on this path for a reason and it was not to see London.

 

“But why?” she asked as she urged Chip to move forward. “For what reason would I possibly accompany you to London?”

“Are you backing out of our agreement?”

Belle huffed. “Of course not! I’m simply wondering why the need to go to London-”

“I have my reasons,” Gold said, cutting her short.

“You haven’t even been here a week!” Belle reminded him. “What will people think-”

“I’ll remind you, I do not care what people think and you would do well to stop worrying about it as well.”

Belle ought to have left well enough alone. Stung and sour, only one thought came to mind. “So,” she said casually. “You do not care what your local reputation in the village is?”

Gold’s answering chuckle was as dark and ominous as the lone rumble of thunder before a storm. “Let me guess. I am the devil’s get, a demon changeling, a curse on the house of Lonsdale. All things my father said to me openly and constantly.” He glanced over. “Or do you mean what they say about the events that drove me out from Askham?”

“I shouldn’t-”

“Oh no,” he warned. “Pray do tell me. Spare no salacious rumor. Let us see what the people of Avonlea whisper about their lord while in their church pews or visiting at market days.”

His gaze brooked no argument, something simmered in the depths of his eyes, and Belle knew she had brought this upon herself. Wanting nothing more than to sink into the earth, she struggled to find her voice. “Your father found you and his wife in bed together and suffered a fit of apoplexy that killed him. Your own wife fled in fear for her own life into a storm…”

Belle did not finish the story. Everyone knew Milah Gold, had drowned when her carriage went off the road and into the river that night. News of the tragedy had spread like wildfire through the countryside and with it, the reason why the Viscountess had been out on such a night.

“Is that all?” Gold prompted when Belle did not continue.

“Isn’t that enough?” she said, feeling rather sick to her stomach. She couldn’t so much as look at him, but his eyes burned against the side of her cheek until she broke.

“People will believe what they will,” Gold said and it sounded like a warning.

The fact that the new Lord Lonsdale had left Askham that same night and had never come back had fueled the fire. Even when the magistrate had found no evidence of criminal conduct, the rumors had never died but grown until they took on a life of their own.

“The coachman swore that the accident was from the Viscountess urging him to go faster, which he did against his better judgment,” Belle hurried to add, not that it helped. “He lost control of the horses and was thrown clear...he only caught up to them after they plunged into the river-”

“Did the coachmen ever mention where Milah was going in such a hurry?” Gold asked after a pause. “I’ve sometimes wondered.”

Belle shook her head. “Not that I ever heard tell though...he left shortly after you. Most of the staff was dismissed and had to go elsewhere when you left.” She was unable to resist asking, “Did you ever stop to think of the people who would lose their livelihoods and homes when you stormed out of Askham Hall?”

After a long silence, he said, “To be honest, no.” Gold did not take the opportunity to deny the charges or offer some explanation. “But the one thing I’ve learned is the past is the past. There is no use dwelling on it. There is no changing it.”

He kicked his heels and The Dark One shot out away from her, leaving Belle to muse over what Gold’s past truly held and why she cared.


	4. Chapter 4

Gold could not recall the last time he had visited the quarry. In truth, he had never given it much thought. His father had closed it before he had even been born, not needing the profit or the headache of managing the quarry when the mine was closer at hand.

He swung down from his horse to get a better look at the rocky terrain. As far as he could see, there was a thin covering of soil but underneath it was unquestionably slate.

Sitting atop Chip, Belle gazed proudly around the horizon, as if this was her quarry, and not his. “I’ve read all about quarries,” she told him, continuing to push her agenda in the dogged way he was quickly learning Belle French did everything. “A friend of mine from the village agrees that it would take decades to quarry all the slate here.”

Gold could not help but consider what friend had come out here with Belle while she compiled her master plan to save Avonlea. “Is this a gentleman friend?” he asked nonchalantly. “He would have to be a good friend indeed to accompany a young woman so far.”

“David is my best friend’s husband,” Belle said tartly, not missing his innuendo. “I grew up with them both. We’re closer than siblings. And my personal business is mine, Lord Gold. I would appreciate it if you did not jump to such risque conclusions.”

It had not escaped his notice that Belle French was a beautiful woman. Surely there were men in Avonlea with eyes in their heads. Other than the cretin Gaston she had mentioned, Gold suspected no man had been brave enough to approach such a woman as Belle French, a woman with opinions and intelligence, fire and passion … Perhaps it was like recognizing like that had driven them to here and now, entering into an agreement that neither wanted to be in but neither party was willing to concede.

Caught up in these thoughts, he watched her, trying to suss out the truth. As he did so, Belle moved to dismount but her boot caught in the stirrup. Before she could so much as cry out, Gold had her in his arms. Chip, placid as always, simply moved to the side, which left Gold with his hands full of a woman in breeches clinging to his chest.

Those damn breeches. He had to ride ahead of her as much as possible on the journey here lest his own ride become excruciatingly uncomfortable. The way they wrapped around her curves, displaying every single inch of her to the passing eye...he wanted to both burn the damn things before anyone else ever saw her in them and simultaneously pray that she never took them off.

Which was...asinine. Yes, he had been drunk and had insisted upon adding insult to injury at their first meeting...but he had never intended any of this...something about this woman just called to him in a way no woman had since-

Bright blue eyes turned up to him, confused and slightly alarmed; understandable after tumbling from a horse only to be caught from mid-air. They had not so much as touched before now and Gold found he very much wanted to keep holding her but he forced himself to lower her to her feet.

Yet, he retained her hand in his. Her hand shivered in his grip despite the unusually warm weather. He took the opportunity to examine her hand, warm and soft underneath the callused pads of his fingertips. Her hand was small-boned and delicate but it was not the hand of a lady. Belle’s hand was enchantingly supple, a hand that had done a day’s work and knew its own capability.

“My lord?”

He released her with a wry smile. “Let’s see this quarry of yours,” he said as if they had not been on the precipice of something momentous. He tethered both the mounts before he escorted Belle across the grass to the nearest outcropping of slate.

When they reached the rocky projection, he moved to examine the irregular layers of dark, light-absorbing stone. Belle trailed after him. They observed the high-quality veins together; Belle pointing out that even the beds with clay would be good for roofing in the village.

Gold skimmed his hand across the slate. There was potential here and it energized him more than anything had in quite a long time. “Show me the rest of the site.”

He did not miss Belle’s proud grin or the way his own lips turned up at the corners at her enthusiasm.

Over the next hour or so, they roamed over the hillside, examining the quality of the exposed slate. At one point, Gold realized he was already treating this venture as a foregone conclusion. Something about Belle’s determination triggered an answering confidence in him.

“There,” Belle said as she pointed to a ridge curling to the southwest. “That seems like the best spot for the tramway. It’s not too far from the river and it’s all on Askham land. Would we need to complete the tramway before working the quarry?”

He shook his head. “We could hold finished slates here until the tramway is completed. Still, there are a lot of details to take care of. I’d have to arrange financing.”

“That’s why you are going to London!” Belle said as she clapped her hands together.

“That and to get you some proper clothes,” he replied. “I can’t have you wandering about in boy hand-me-downs. After that, we’ll also have to visit a large scale slate quarry to study the techniques, and hire an experienced manager.”

“And the wharf on the coast,” she reminded him.

Another wrinkle. He would have find a site and a trusted engineer to build a quay strong enough to resist the coastal weather and the heavy loads of slate and coal. Money was not a concern, but he would have to keep a careful eye over every step of this process. Throwing money around often attracted the wrong sort of people and if this was going to happen, it was going to be done right.

But if he did this, he’d be binding himself to Askham for another year or more. He cast a look over at Belle, who was glowing with pride, as she began to point out the large sheets of unbroken slate and how much they would go for.

“Has anyone ever told you’re far too clever?” he said, keeping his voice light and teasing.

“It’s been mentioned,” Belle replied, a grin indicating she understood the ribbing was in jest. “Why do you think I’m a spinster?”

Because every man in Avonlea was a fool, Gold thought.

When it grew late, they headed back to the horses, and he helped Belle back into the saddle. Chip flickered his ears in interest at their return while The Dark One began to tug restlessly at his ties.

Gold should not be surprised that Belle knew about the market. Even as she learned new concepts such as tramways and quays, she always surprised him with her knowledge of something else. Gold had never discussed such things with a woman before, not even Milah. He enjoyed having someone to discuss business with, outside his groveling solicitor. Glass was a good employee but he would say whatever he thought Gold wanted to hear.

“I want to visit the coal pit,” he announced before he could think better of it. “Could you arrange that?”

“I’m sure Gaston would be happy to receive your lordship,” Belle pointed out.

“It’s not Gaston I want to see at this juncture. I’d rather go into the mine with a knowledgeable guide.”

Belle had not expected Gold to move so quickly or to be so determined to live up to his part of the bargain. He had been like a boy at the quarry, far more excited at the challenges than she had ever dreamed he might be and now he was ready to charge off to the pit. Belle could almost believe she was dreaming if it was not for the growing discomfort of sitting in the saddle.

“David’s a hewer in the pit. I’m sure he’d be willing to take you down and explain the hazards.”

It was near noon and growing too warm for comfort. Gold had gone bareheaded, and Belle, starting to sweat slightly, opted to take off her hat. The first days of spring after the long days of winter were wonderful. Trusting Chip, Belle tilted her face up to the sun, enjoying the sensation immensely.

After a bit, Gold dismounted to open a gate that led into a pasture full of black Welsh cattle. The Dark One shook his head in annoyance as Gold led him through the fence. He waited for her to pass through, closing it behind Chip. Belle smiled down at him, silently thanking him for the courtesy. He probably would have simply jumped the fence if he had been alone.

Gold surveyed the cattle as they wandered aimlessly across the pasture. “The local agricultural practices do need attention,” Gold said as he swung back upon his horse. “While we’re in London, I’ll see about buying a handful of quality bulls for breeding.” He considered a moment. “Besides improving the Askham herd, they’d also be available to the local smallholders.”

Unable to resist, Belle teased, “Providing a local stud?”

Gold halted, swinging around to gape at her. Belle simply offered him a tight-lipped smile as Chip trotted past him. Belle did not care to admit how charming she found Gold when he was befuddled and off balance.


	5. Chapter 5

After stabling the horses, Gold escorted Belle into the house where instead of retiring to their respective chambers to freshen up, Gold ushered her into the main drawing room.

Feeling his eyes upon her, Belle looked up at the room around her, casting about to find something to say. “It’s certainly very...grand,” she said lamely after a moment’s pause threatened to stretch into eternity.

He looked about the room. He had never cared for Askham Hall personally. “So, you like it?”

Belle frowned. “I didn’t say that.” At Gold’s answering laugh, Belle bristled. “What am I supposed to say? I don’t know anything about current fashion and fine furniture!”

“Probably about as much as I know,” he said with a shrug. ”It doesn’t mean your opinion is valueless.”

Her gaze traveled around the room. “To be honest?” she said as her eyes returned to him. “There’s too much,” she waved at the clutter around the room. Every inch of space was filled with patterns, fabric, bits of china. “No doubt everything is in the best of taste,” she hurried to add. “But I prefer simplicity.”

He nodded. “Anything else?”

Belle looked over at a nearby picture frame where a coating of dust lay thick even to the naked eye. “Well, it could use more housekeeping…” she said as she considered the rest of the room with the same careful eye.

Gold nodded. “Hire more maids. Get rid of clutter. Whatever you think is best.”

“Me?” Belle said in surprise.

Gold nodded. “If you intend to tie me to this mausoleum for the next few years, the least you can do is make it liveable. Buy what you think is necessary and have the bills sent to me.”

“Tie yourself- wait, were you planning to sell the estate?”

Too clever by half, he thought as he tried to turn away.

Belle followed after him. “But you couldn’t- the estate is entailed. You must hold the property in trust for your own heir.”

“And how do you know so much about entails?” he asked her, both annoyed and absurdly proud that she did.

“I made it my business to know as much as possible,” answered Belle vaguely.

“Well, my father chose to put off the resettlement.”

“Whatever for?” Belle asked.

“Ah,” Robert said with a grim smile. “He remarried later in life. And with a young wife...surely an heir would come soon..”

Belle crossed her arms, tilting her jaw in the way that indicated her stubborn streak was coming out in full force. “You would still be his heir..”

“A bastard son is not an ideal heir. He tried and failed for a proper heir but upon his sudden death…” Gold spread his hands out before him. “I inherited without an entail.”

“That’s-”

Gold did not care to hear her pity. “I’ll instruct Dove to follow your orders as he would mine,” he declared. “I must meet with my steward. I’ll leave you to your own devices for the rest of the afternoon. We dine at six.”

“But I-”

He withdrew before Belle could argue her way out of dinner. At the thought of having her here, he was already feeling less oppressed by Askham Hall. His drunken deal had proved more rewarding then he could have imagined. Something about Belle kept the ghosts at bay and he felt more like himself then he had in years.

Perhaps in time, this would no longer feel like his father’s house, but something else entirely.

\--

Belle spent the next hour or so examining the public rooms. The basic layout and proportions were undeniably appealing but the furnishings tended along the lines of grandeur than comfort and there was at least two of everything if not more.

When she finished her initial purview, she went up to her bedchamber which was as large as the whole ground floor of her cottage. She had tried to explain to Dove that she would be fine with a servant’s room, but he had simply shown her to her room as instructed by Lord Lonsdale. So, here she was. A schoolmistress in a lady’s chambers about to dine with the lord of the house.

This room had not been spared the clutter that had infected the rest of the house but the blue decor was soothing. If she removed all the unnecessary furniture and the taxidermied animals littering the wall, it would be quiet pleasant.

Perhaps if she did her duty well enough, it would inspire Gold to settle here permanently and continue to improve the countryside throughout his reign as lord of Askham Hall.

Inspired by this hope, Belle spent the rest of the afternoon making lists and jotting down questions to herself. She was only pulled away from this effort when the clock struck five and she recalled dinner was in the hour.

She had never had any servants and was not sure what the proper protocol was…but after their ride, she was in desperate need of a bath. She rang the bell, feeling ten times a fool but to her surprise, a former student appeared at the door. “Ms. French,” Astrid said politely. “Would you be wanting a bath, miss?”

Astrid did not seem to find it anything but perfectly natural to find her old schoolmistress as a guest in Askham Hall and it put Belle at ease. However, Belle did insist upon helping Astrid with bringing in the two heavy coppers of steaming water despite the girl’s protest.

The enormous hip bath was delightful; Belle had never had the luxury of this much hot water in her cottage and she soaked for so long that she had to fix her hair and dress in an unseemly rush.

Dressing was easy considering she only had one gown suitable for evening wear. It had been her mother’s and was old and far from stylish. However, the blue matched her eyes. The neckline revealed several inches of skin around her throat; hardly like the extremely low-cut fashion gowns of the day, but it would do for dinner.

After brushing her hair and pinning it into a coil at her nape, she examined herself critically in the mirror. The heat of the bath had caused her hair to curl softly about her face, lessening her usual severe hairstyle. Her reflection showed her just as she was: a modest woman of modest means. She was presentable, but far from capable of driving any man to lust, especially not the Lord of Askham. Not that she wanted to drive him to lust. She just...wouldn’t mind if he noticed she looked nicer than usual was all.

Wiping her now damp palms on her skirt, Belle went downstairs to dinner. Gold was already in the family drawing room, pouring a drink from a decanter. Dressed in beautifully tailored black coat and pantaloons, he looked ready to dine with the Prince Regent. Belle paused in the door, struck by the sheer ridiculousness of this situation. He was a sight to break an impressionable girl’s heart and she was just a cottager.

She was about to flee back to her room to castigate herself for her stupidity when he turned. He halted mid-gesture as he took her in and finally, “Would you care for a glass of sherry?”

Caught, Belle could only nod in agreement.

Gold poured her a glass. “Shall we drink to our deal?”

Belle lifted her glass. “May the mine be safer, Avonlea healthier, happier, and wealthier.”

He clinked the rim of his glass against hers as the soft gong of the dinner bell rang out. “I haven’t actually had a meal here since my return,” he said in an apologetic tone. “I have no idea how skillful the cook is.”

“Oh, one of the maids has been pressed into service as a temporary cook,” Belle explained, having heard it from Astrid.

“Ah,” Gold said. “What would I do without you?”

“Starve, most likely,” Belle teased.

He still might. The first course was an over-salted leek soup, surprisingly terrible for the simple dish. They tried to distract themselves with talk about the quarry a bit as they both grimaced with every sip of soup.

Belle was almost relieved when Dove and Astrid entered the room together. Astrid cast nervous glances at the earl as she hurried to clean away the first course dishes. If the girl noticed the still full soup bowls, she did not comment on it.

Dove lowered a platter of scorched-looking lamb in front of his master, then served half a dozen other dishes.

After dismissing them both, Gold carved the lamb. “If the soup is any indication, the poor maid is out of her depth in the kitchen,” he sighed.

With one bite of the leathery meat, Belle had to agree.

Gold shook his head. “Something must be done about the food,” he said, prodding a boiled potato with his fork. “Do you know of a decent cook who is looking for work?”

Belle shook her head. “You might be able to find someone in Swansea. Aren’t there chefs suited for more aristocratic houses in London?”

“Any chef worth their salt would be bored to death within a week in Wales,” he said after brief consideration. “Are there really no decent Welsh country cooks?”

Belle’s brows knitted as she ran through the people she knew.

Gold pushed a sinister-looking lump to the side of his plate. “Come,” he coaxed with his aristocratic impatience on full display. “Surely, there’s someone?”

One name came to mind. “There is a woman in Avonlea who worked here as a kitchen maid before her marriage.” Belle raised her fork. “She’s not a formally trained cook, but her food has always been wonderful.”

“Would she come work for me?” he asked.

Belle considered his question as it was a valid one. Despite the rumors of the Demon Earl, a job was hard to come by. “She could use the work. Her husband died in the pit last year.”

Gold spooned a mysterious, brown substance onto his plate. “If you can coax the widow up here tomorrow I’ll be eternally grateful.”

At the smell of the cold, gray, mushy brussel sprouts wafted up to her, Belle wrinkled her nose. “I’ll see what I can do,” she told him as she pushed her plate away. “I have a stake in the results myself.”

After several more minutes of fortified chewing, Gold said, “Did you spend the afternoon devising a strategy for the house?”

“I had a look at the ground floor,” Belle said. “It could be as simple as cleaning and simplification.” She decided to try the bread and was relieved when it proved to be tasteless but edible. “I won’t do anything too radical. When you remarry, I’m sure your wife will have plans of her own.”

Gold set his wine glass down with enough force that threatened to shatter it. “You needn’t concern yourself about that.” There was a black edge to his voice. It was not a tone he had used even in the tempest of their first meeting. “I do not plan to remarry.” Gold pushed his plate away.  
“This is not a meal to linger over.” He glanced over at her. “Do we dare to see what dessert entails?”

Belle shook her head. “I think I would rather retire for the evening. I’m rather tired from our ride.”

“Well, I don’t think it would be fair to force you to endure me all the time...but it is still early.”

There was a wistful note in his voice and it gave Belle pause. The lord had no friends or family here...perhaps a bargain for her company had been asking for something else he needed without quite knowing it. And a small traitorous voice in her head did not want to leave him quite yet...

“How do fashionable people amuse themselves in the evening?” Belle asked. “Reading in the library? A walk in the gardens?” She cast about for other things she had read about. “A game of billiards?”

Gold raised a single brow. “You’d like to play billiards?”

“Yes,” Belle declared with an imperial tilt of her chin. In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Even though it is widely considered an immoral game?”

Belle knew he was teasing her but she refused to let him have the last word. “The only reason it’s considered immoral is the risk of falling into the wrong company. But since I’m already stuck with you, I don’t see the risk.”

“How can I argue that?” Gold replied with a chuckle. “Let us descend into immorality.”

He lifted a branch of candles, and at that moment, he looked every inch the demonic despot from the stories, but then he smiled at her, and Belle was lost.

He offered her his arm and led her from the room.


	6. Chapter 6

The billiards room was at the far end of the house. Belle lit the candles in the chandelier that hung over the center of the room. The warmth from the afternoon had disappeared with the sun so Gold built a coal fire to take the chill out of the damp spring night.

When they had light and heat, Gold took a set of ivory balls from the equipment cabinet and laid them on the baize-covered table. “Would you prefer to use a mace or a cue stick?”

Belle looked between the two. “What’s the difference?”

“Note the broad, flat head. This is the old-fashioned way of playing billiards. The ball is pushed, rather like in shuffleboard.” Belle nodded in understanding. “A player using a mace doesn’t have to bend over.” He set the mace against the cue ball and demonstrated, sending the ball into a corner pocket.

“And the cue?”

He took off his coat so he could move freely, then bent over, lined up a shot and stroked. The cue ball knocked a red ball into a pocket, then careened off a second ball, which also dropped into a pocket. “The cue,” he said as he straightened. “Allows more flexibility and control. But I imagine you’ll prefer the mace. It saves the lady from bending over and exposing her ankles.”

Belle moved to pick up the mace in one hand and the cue in the other. “I doubt it matters much which of these I use… I’ve never played and I’d bet a year’s salary you’ve played since you were old enough to stand upright.”

“Perhaps, but…” He rolled a ball across the green baize toward a pocket. Halfway across the table, it hit a bump and skipped to the right. “This table is so warped that skill won’t count for much. The wood underneath the baize does not handle the weather of Wales quite as well as the people,” Gold explained with a shake of his head.

Belle considered the table one more moment. “What about a slate surface?” she proposed. “If fit together and covered….it would make a level surface. Would that even work?”

“I have no idea,” Gold said, “but it’s an intriguing thought. I know at least ten to twenty lords who would throw down quite a sum for a level billiard table in their country estates. I’ll speak to the estate carpenter.”

After explaining the rules of the game, Gold gestured for Belle to try her luck. She considered the table, the mace in her hand and then put it down to walk to the far side of the table. Taking the cue stick, she bent over and tried a stroke. The hard wooden tip hit the ivory cue ball off-center, and the ball rolled weakly to one side. Belle frowned as she straightened, put-out.

Gold came around to join her. He lifted his cue stick and walked her through the shooting procedure step by step. “Put most of your weight on the right foot and bend from the hips. The fingers of your left hand should support the stick, like so. Line your sight along the cue and try to hit the ball dead center.” He demonstrated again, miming the actual shot before he handed the cue back to Belle and leaned back against the table.

Belle twisted her lips in concentration as she bent over to try again. Her skirts raised, exposing her ankles to the room. Gold meant to look away but he couldn’t quite manage it. He was unable to help but admire the shapely curves or her calves that led upwards-

Before his mind could provide any further thoughts on Belle’s ankles, she asked him a question on angles and force. Pulling his mind out of the gutter, he walked her through the basics, Belle nodding along before she would practice his advice. Once she was ready, they began a game.

Belle was as competitive as any man he had ever played. She scowled whenever she miscued, pouted slightly whenever he potted a ball and muttered to herself as she lined up her shots. “Careful,” he said as she glared daggers at the cue ball. “If that bursts into flame, we’ll have to fetch water to put it out.”

“Do not worry, my lord,” Belle said as she twisted her shoulders slightly to the left. “I always keep a pitcher at hand if needed.”

She managed to pot the ball with her next stroke, and when she straightened she was glowing with the satisfaction of a job well done. Clearly enjoying herself, she potted two more balls in a row. Relaxed and confident, she stretched over the table to line up a third. Her dress could not hide the curves of her derriere at this angle, and Gold had to curl his fingers around his own cue stick.

Belle took her shot but the cue ball shot to the wrong side, missing entirely. “Drat!” she huffed as her foot stamped the floor. Some strands of hair had come undone around her face and she brushed them impatiently away.

During the course of the evening, he had learned how to avoid the worst of the table’s idiosyncrasies. Even with the complication (a handicap he had called it) of having to bounce the object ball off the cushions, he managed to pot his last four balls and ended their current game. Belle tried not to be frustrated; he had been playing all his life after all.

Generous in victory, he tipped his head to her. “For a beginner, you’re doing quite well, Belle.” He nodded towards the table where only two of her balls remained. “You almost had me there.”

Pleased despite herself, Belle was on the verge of suggesting another game when the mantle clock struck eleven. She returned her cue stick to the rack. “Time to retire,” she declared. “There’s a great deal to do tomorrow. I plan to go into Avonlea and find a cook, arrange for you to visit the pit, check on the school...”

Gold returned his own cue stick to the rack, where Belle lingered. She turned a little too quickly, just as he stepped to the side, and she ended up pressed up against him. It was not nearly as intimate as that afternoon when she had tumbled off her horse, but they were alone in a dark room now.

He must have seen something in her face because he did not pull away from her. He raised his hand, slowly, careful that she could see it and put it under her chin. He raised her face so that she was looking directly at him. “Amazing,” he said as he studied her. “It’s like reading an open book.”

Belle gazed up at him. “And do you find it to your liking, my lord?”

Her question was brazen, surprising even her.

“From what I’ve seen?” He nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off her upturned face. Something bubbled in her blood, and she pressed closer to him, half hoping- half expecting.

He seemed to guess her intentions. “It’s late,” he said. “I plan to go to Swansea tomorrow, and you already thoroughly listed out your activities. So, I’ll look forward to seeing you at dinner.”

He turned his back to her to lift the dusty velvet cover back to the table, a clear dismissal. Belle lingered for a heartbeat, feeling foolish and unsated and confused all at once. She took a small branch of candles from the top of the equipment cabinet and fled the room.

She was here to save Avonlea, she told herself sternly, as she made her way through the halls. Nothing else.  
\--

The next day, Belle timed her arrival at the school with the children’s break. They were all outside when she arrived and at the sight of her, the children rushed to her side. They spoke over each other to tell her everything she had missed in the day and a half she had been gone.

After greeting each and every one of them, she went inside to find Mary Margaret waiting for her. “How goes it?” Belle asked as she closed the door behind her.

Her friend collapsed on the edge of the battered desk with a laugh. “If you had come yesterday, I would have begged you upon bended knees to take the school back. “

Belle smiled. “It can’t be that bad. The children seem in pleasant spirits.”

“Today is going more smoothly,” Mary Margaret admitted. “It’s hard work but...I can see why you love it. When they understand something new, they just light up as if the whole world is opening before them...I remember that feeling so well and to be able to give it to someone else… “

Listening to Mary Margaret speak, Belle wondered when was the last time she had felt such pleasure in her role as an educator. She believed wholeheartedly in education but she often experienced boredom in the drills and repetition. In fact, the closest thing she could recall to a worthwhile challenge was sparring with Gold. Matching wits with someone crafty, unpredictable and intelligent was exhilarating in its own right.

Well, it appeared Mary Margaret had the school in hand, which left her next order of business. “Lord Askham wants to see the conditions of the mine as they truly are, not how Gaston presents them. Would David be willing to take him through the mine?”

Mary Margaret blinked rapidly. “My, that was fast,” she said as she thought it over. “If Gaston finds out, he might make trouble for David…”

Belle nodded. “I know there’s a danger, but…” She paused. “Don't tell anyone but Lonsdale says he’s willing to reopen and expand the slate quarry!”

“Belle!” Mary Margaret exclaimed, loudly enough that even the children outside quieted for a moment. “That’s marvelous!” she added in a much quieter voice. “And he’s willing to inquire into the pit?” Mary Margaret shook her head. “I had my doubts about this but it seems you, as usual, were right.”

“I’d like to plan his visit as soon as possible,” Belle said. “Before he might lose interest.”

“Well,” Mary Margaret paused to consider. “Gaston always goes home for a two-hour meal in the middle of the day. Tomorrow should work fine for David to take his lordship into the pit. I’ll check with him tonight. I’ll send word if there is a concern. Otherwise, bring Lord Lonsdale to the pit around noon.”

“Perfect!” Belle replied with a clap of her hands.

“Are you headed back to the house? Is it very grand? What kind of work does he have you doing?” Mary Margaret asked, unable to hide her curiosity a minute longer.

Belle laughed. “Yes, and yes,” Belle answered. “As far as my duties, he’s tasked me to hire staff and rearrange the place a bit.” She had actually spoken with the head of house this morning before she had come down to Avonlea. “They’ve been running that huge house on a skeleton staff of two maids.”

“It shouldn’t be hard to find people willing to work.”

“It wasn’t,” Belle told her. “I thought perhaps...with the rumors...but I went to the village today and everyone I spoke with not only accepted temporary positions at the house but went straight to Askham lest the job disappeared before they arrived.”

At the moment, Dove probably had at least a dozen people scrubbing and dusting.

Belle had also secured a chef. Mrs. Potts had been positively buzzing with excitement to see the old house again and had hurried Belle out the door so she could go up right away to see to the kitchen.

“And Lord Lonsdale?” Mary Margaret pressed. “Has he done anything to live up to his reputation?”

Belle had been prepared for this question. “He’s lonely,” she replied. “I think he still mourns...it must be very hard to come back to a house full of memories.”

“Perhaps having someone new there is a balm for a burdened heart,” Mary Margaret agreed but she did not sound quite convinced.

Recess was drawing to a close, so Belle said her goodbyes to return to Askham. When she entered the front hall, she hardly recognized it. The hall and the adjacent drawing room were full of people, hard at work and chatting as they went. The gloomy, forlorn air of the house had been wiped away as easily as the dust.

Dove turned away from polishing the brass light fixtures to greet her. “You’ve been busy today,” he said proudly. “Come and see the fruit of your efforts.”

He led her into the drawing room. They had chatted about removing some of the uglier furnishing and ornaments, and Dove had spent the day hard at work. So much had been taken away that there was now plenty of space that would need to be filled. “Would you care to select furniture for these rooms?” he asked with a nod toward the gaps.

“You’re much more acquainted with the proportions of the rooms,” Belle demurred. “Could you spare some thoughts on how to best proceed?”

Dove’s face grew animated. “I may have spent some time musing on the subject,” he confessed. “Though I could do nothing without the lordship’s orders. There are some fine pieces stored in the attic,” he suggested. “There may be something suitable tucked way. Come, let us see.”

Dove hung his polishing rag over a doorknob and took Belle’s bonnet and shawl. After handing them off to one of the young women nearby, Dove led Belle upstairs. They stopped to light lamps, then started up the last narrow flights to the attic.

He led her through shadowy spaces. “I would return these pieces to the drawing room.” The furniture he indicated was old but beautifully made with a natural elegance to the design even in the dark of this forgotten space. Dove pulled a dust cover off a small sofa, which was elegant and refined as it was inviting.

“Why this is lovely,” Belle murmured as she traced the edges of the cushions.

“Exiled by the whims of fashion,” Dove sniffed. “The Viscountess was the one who installed the crocodile-legged sofas. Clear proof that good breeding does not guarantee good taste.”

Dove treated her with the frankness of a fellow Avonlean, but was also willing to hear her thoughts and share his as well. Lulled by this unexpected camaraderie, Belle could not resist the opportunity to learn more about the late Viscountess. “What was she like?”

Dove’s face wiped clean of all expression. “I really can’t say, Miss French. I was the under butler then, I very seldom saw her ladyship.” His eyes flickered to something beyond her shoulder. “Would you...care to see her portrait? The old earl had it commissioned for her wedding.”

Curious, Belle nodded and Dove led her from the main attic to an even smaller one. He pulled a painting free from its fellows and removed the sheet covering it. Belle raised her lantern to light the portrait to find a stunning rendition of a young woman dressed as a Greek nymph.

Milah Gold stood in a lake. She looked at home upon the water, wind blowing her long, dark black hair and molding white draperies to her long, lean figure. She was flawless with cool green eyes and a smile hinting at secrets shared between herself and the viewer. She was more beautiful than Belle could have imagined. It seemed a terrible fate for such beauty to be banished up here to the rafters.

“Why is this portrait not displayed downstairs?” Belle asked.

Dove faltered. “I believe the dowager countess sent the painting up here just before she closed the house,” he answered.

No one ever mentioned the dowager countess outside the narrative of the Demon Earl. She knew better than to ask Dove what Lady Regina Gold had been like. She doubted he would tell her about the woman who had left her husband’s bed for her stepson’s.

Belle had always thought little of her for such a transgression but now...she wondered. Lady Lonsdale had been married to an old man, far past his prime, only for his son to move back home. Had Lady Lonsdale fallen in love with the young man in her midst? Had it been love or lust that had driven her to his bed?

And if it had been love, had it been reciprocated?

Belle could not wrap her head around what had happened in this house four years ago, nor did she particularly want to. This house had known too much sadness; it was time to bring it back into the light of the day. “This portrait would look lovely over one of the drawing room fireplaces. Have it taken downstairs.”

Dove almost looked as if he was going to protest, but he changed his mind and nodded. He went down with the portrait of the Viscountess as Belle began to look about for another suitable piece.


	7. Chapter 7

By the end of the day, Belle was once again badly in need of a bath. She had dust and dirt smudged across her face and her dress was in desperate need of a wash. Still, she lingered to look proudly across the drawing room. It lacked a new coat of paint and the upholstery fabrics wouldn’t last much longer but the overall effect was pleasing.

It was another half an hour before dinner but still no sight of the master of the house. Belle wondered if she had time to go to the kitchens to see how their new chef was getting along but Gold took that opportunity to walk through the front door. He was wind-tousled and again had foregone his hat. “Belle!” he greeted, pleasantly surprised to find her there. HIs own pleasure sparked an answering joy in her and she stepped out into the hallway to join him. He took in her disheveled state. “Productive day?” he asked with a grin.

The mud splattering his boots and driving coat simply lent him a dashing air of a man about the country while she looked like a dowdy maid. “Very,” she said, unable to hide the pride she felt at the hard work that had gone into the house today. “And you?”

“I,” he began, practically bursting to share his news, “located the engineer who built most of the tramways in the area, and I found an excellent prospective location for the coastal quay.” He stopped short and inhaled deeply. “Mm, I take it you were successful in luring a cook up here.”

“Mrs. Potts is down in the kitchens as we speak, but come and see what else we managed.” She led him to the drawing room, unable to hide how excited she was at the prospect of showing him the beauty of Askham when properly cared for.

He barely stepped inside before he swore. “God in heaven, how did you accomplish so much in a day?”

“I simply found some willing hands down at the village this morning.” Gold simply stared around the room in disbelief until Belle prompted,” Do you approve?”

“Very much.” His answering smile warmed her heart to the point of bursting. He turned to explore in more detail when he froze at the sight of the Viscountess hanging over the mantle. “What,” he said through clenched teeth, “is that doing here?”

“Oh, I had brought it down from the attic.”

“Get rid of it,” he snarled. “This instant.”

He did not so much as wait for her to respond before he stalked from the room. The door slammed behind him with enough force to rattle the glass chimneys of the lamps.

Belle had been curious to see his reaction but the cold fury that swept over the room was not what she had expected. Her hands were still shaking when she rang for Dove. He appeared as if he had been waiting just outside the drawing room. ‘His lordship didn’t like the redecoration?” he asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“It was the portrait.” She indicated the painting. “It needs to be removed. Immediately.”

Dove nodded. “Would you want the space left blank or?” Belle could not think. She cast about for some of the other paintings she had seen. Thankfully, Dove was prepared. “Perhaps, the painting of the castle against the sunset? It’s about the same size.’

Belle nodded before she disappeared upstairs for her bath. This time Astrid had help bringing up the hot water; both girls chatted cheerfully as they helped Belle into the tub. The steaming water eased Belle’s anxiety as well as her sore muscles from the hard day’s work. She lingered in the tub for longer than necessary, trying to determine how she should handle Gold’s flare-up.

In the end, she decided to pretend it hadn’t happened. If Gold didn’t show up to dinner, that was fine but she would be there.

The morning room was empty when she arrived but as the clock struck six, Gold appeared, dressed as impeccably as the night before. “I’m eager to test the cook’s skill,” he said without greeting her. “Shall we go into dinner?”

Belle bit her tongue. She wanted to demand an explanation on what had happened earlier in the drawing room but when she took his arm, he was so tense it felt as if he might snap in two. His anger had not abated but he was making an effort to not direct it at her and so Belle kept quiet. For now.

Dove and one of the newly hired footmen served dinner. After the food had been placed on the table, the two moved to withdraw when Gold held out his hand for them to pause. “Dove, I understand that you were the mastermind behind most of the improvements in the drawing room. Well done.”

Dove blinked, clearly pleased. He shot a grateful glance at Belle as he said, “Thank you, my lord. It was my pleasure.”

It was roast lamb again this evening, but this time it was cooked to perfection. It had a suet crust with mountain ash berry jam on the side, one of Mrs. Pott’s specialties. She paired it with roast potatoes, crispy and hot, tender asparagus and sauteed trout. It was the best meal Belle had in months, but it was simple in its perfection. She was worried Gold, despite his words last night, might sneer at the country offering but he surprised her. “Double Mrs. Pott’s salary.”

Belle lowered her fork back to the plate. “You don’t even know how much she’s earning-”

“She’s worth her weight in gold,” he said as he gestured towards the spread before them. He looked concerned for a moment. “What happened to yesterday’s chef?”

“She’s been promoted to head housemaid,” Belle told him. “She does wonders with the silver.”

Pouring them both some wine, Gold sat back and began to tell her about his day at Swansea. He answered her questions on the people he had met, the business arrangements and next steps, and then it was Belle’s turn to tell him about her day. She briefed him on the new household arrangements (“You’ll be seeing quite a few new faces.”) as well as his scheduled visit to the mine the next day.

The servants cleaned away the dishes (Gold made a point to ask their names, and Belle could hear him repeating it back to himself so he would not forget) and brought out tea. Lost in the casual conversation, it was a surprise when the clock struck ten. “It’s late,” Gold said with a nod towards the clock. “You must be tired.”

Belle stood, but he was not quite done yet. “About earlier, I….”

His eyes softened and his mask slipped. He sat before her, utterly exposed as he tried to cast about the words to explain, to reason, to wash away the tension between them.

Belle was drawn to him. Without a thought, she came around the table. She did not know what she intended but she knew what she wanted.

Gold watched her approach, silent and still. He did not stand so Belle gently took his hand and pulled him toward her until he rose. He pressed her hand between his own. There were no gloves between them, and every nerve in her hand flared to life at his touch. She pulled her hand free, to reach out to cup his cheek. It was meant to be reassuring but it was purely selfish want on her own part.

He was clean shaved, skin soft, but this late in the evening, she could already feel the prickle of stubble. It was an unexpected texture to find in the palm of her hand and it made her knees weaken.

If Belle had any sense, she would see her behavior was much too forward but she was not in control of her body at the moment. She shifted closer.

He pulled away; it was almost painful. “Thank you for...everything. I hope you will… sleep well,” he managed before he strode off and through the door without a look backward.

Fleeing from her.


	8. Chapter 8

Gold reined back The Dark One at the top of the hill. Below him, the pit was spread out as far as the eye could see. There were no trees just grimy buildings littering the valley with waste stone heaped all around them. Close at hand, a tall chimney poured dark smoke into the already cloudy England sky.

Belle was still a few yards back, coaxing Chip into climbing the steep, stony hillside. Gold was glad for the moment to collect his thoughts. He not been back to the mine since Jones had purchased it.

Gold’s father had grown tired of maintaining it and had tasked him with finding a buyer. A thankless task, one he had thought would take years. He had been as surprised as anyone when Killian Jones of all people had jumped at the opportunity. Despite their differences, it had been an easy business arrangement: the Golds would keep the land while Jones would run the mines.

Before the ink had dried on the paperwork for the mine, Jones had bought a neighboring house, Bryn Manor. He had talked incessantly on how he had planned to bring the mine into the modern ages but then Milah had died and Gold had left Avonlea, Askham Hall, the mine and Lord Jones behind him.

Belle arrived at the top of the hill and pointed to something, pulling him out of his reverie. “The main shaft is right in the middle of those buildings. The older shaft is over there to the left but you really can’t see if from here. It’s mostly used for ventilation these days.”

She had to raise her voice to be heard over the pounding of the steam engine, which served to pump water from the pit. It was rusted and bent, older than Gold, perhaps older than his father.

Belle noticed his gaze. “Gaston insists the underground tunnels will drain water from the lower levels, so there’s no real need for a new pump.”

Her tone made it clear what she thought about that solution: Short-sighted. New equipment would be expensive but it would pay for itself within the year. None of this made sense. He may not have always liked Jones but the man was proud of what was his. “Has Jones neglected his house as thoroughly as he has the miine?”

Belle shot him a look. “To my knowledge, Lord Jones hasn’t set foot in this valley for years. Fifteen jobs or more were lost when he closed Bryn Manor.”

They made their way down to the grim buildings. Over the steam engine’s racket, another noise grew louder and louder as they approached. He looked about, trying to determine the noise. Belle pointed towards a large shed, the source of the coal dust that covered everything. Belle gestured toward a nearby shed. “We can leave the horses there.”

As they dismounted, a figure came towards them. Belle brightened and Gold had to tamper down a flash of irritation as a handsome man greeted her by her Christian name. “Belle,” the miner said, before turning expectantly towards him. “David Nolan, your lordship. I brought a change of clothes for you.” He held up some rags. “Not much but it’ll save your clothes from further ruin.” He nodded toward the coal dust already appearing on Gold’s pristine white cuffs.

Gold followed David into the shed and stripped off his outer clothing. He donned a coarse flannel shirt, loose jacket, and sturdy trousers. They were all thoroughly washed but were still covered with ancient grime. “Sorry about that, your lordship,” David said with a shake of his head.

“Not at all,” Gold assured him, appreciating the man’s foresight.

David offered him a heavily padded felt hat to complete the outfit and two candles. “Knot these through a buttonhole. Do you have flint and steel?”

Gold transferred his tinderbox to the pocket of his flannel jacket. “Anything else?”

David scooped a handful of soft clay from a wooden box and used it to form a lump around the base of two candles. At Gold’s quizzical look, David held the candle up to his hat. “When we have to crawl, the clay will fix it to your hat.

David helped Gold fix his candle to his brim and when he was satisfied Gold was ready, the two men left the shed to find Belle waiting for them, also in pit dress.

Unlike the breeches from their ride to the quarry, the flannel pants hung off her. Her hair was coiled up into a braid, half tucked under her hat so she looked just like another lad. Belle caught one look at both their faces and stuck out her chin. “It’s not my first trip down into the pit,” she said before Gold or David could protest. “This was my idea. I’m going with you.”

When David did not bother to argue, Gold bit back his own argument. Judging by the set of Belle’s jaw, he’d lose anyway.

David led them around the whim gin, a huge spindle pulled by a team of horses, to reach the pit mouth. A heaping basket of coal reached the top of the shaft just as they approached. Gold peered down the open shaft. It was a long, dark, drop down. From this height, he could not see the bottom.

Unbothered, David lit his candle, stepped into a loop and sat down. He did not seem bothered that he was dangling over a sheer drop, hundreds of feet deep. So, Gold, acutely aware he was being tested, did the same without flinching.

Which was not difficult. What was difficult was watching Belle do the same. As she stepped out over the abyss, Gold’s hand tightened on the rope until his knuckles were white. When she settled down close to David, Gold forced his fingers to relax.

Once she had settled, David gave the signal and the pulleys began to turn. The three of them dropped down into the darkness. They revolved as they descended, the light slowly diminishing as a red dot below them expanded as smoke and heat rose up around them.

Their descent slowed and they came to a halt several feet to one side of the fire that burned at the bottom of the pit as a ventilation system. They unlooped themselves from the rope and stepped down into a large gallery. Dust-blackened figures were loading a basket of coal nearby. They did not so much as look up from their work.

There was not much to see thanks to the smoke. Gold coughed, struggling to breathe. His eyes began to water and he tilted his head back upward to catch a glimpse of the sky far overhead.

They headed down a narrow passage to the western front. Forced into a single file, Gold stayed at the rear, Belle between him and David. He was fighting a growing unease at Belle being down here but no one else seemed surprised to see her, and it reminded him this was not her first trip into the pit. This thought did not sit well with him.

They were all slightly hunched over, the roof not quite high enough for them to stand straight. As they went, the smoke lessened, replaced by a more suffocating, damp, stony smell. Gold almost thought he was imagining it until Belle turned over her shoulder to ask, “Smell that?”

“Chokedamp,” David said from up ahead. “It gathers in the abandoned workings. Unpleasant but preferable over firedamp. Everything okay back there, my lord?”

“Gold,” he corrected as sweat dripped down his neck. He wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist. “Bit warm but otherwise fine.”

They rounded a bend to find a metal door blocking the tunnel. David stopped a few feet away. “August, open the door.”

The door swung open with a creak and a small boy, perhaps six years old, stuck his head out. He had a long nose for such a small face. “Mr. Nolan!” he greeted in surprise. “What brings you ‘round here?”

Gold asked himself that very question as David ruffled the boy’s hair. “I’ve been working the east side. How’s trapping?”

“Same as yesterday,” August said with a sigh much too weary for a child his age. He spotted Belle behind David and perked up. “Miss French!! I hardly recognized you!”

“How could you? You don’t even have a candle, do you, August?”

The boy shook his head. “Not on fourpence a day.”

Gold took out his spare candle and lit it from his own before offering it to the boy. August took it without protest. “Thank you, sir!” he chirped before peering up at him. “You must be new around here. I know all the men.”

“I’ve been away for a bit,” Gold hedged. Behind him, Belle stifled what sounded like laughter. David ruffled the boy’s hair before he motioned them past August through the door and down the passage. Gold waited until they were well out of earshot. “What is a boy that age doing down here?” His voice was rough and curt even to his own ears. If he had known there were lads his age down here in the dark-

“Most families try not to work their lads before they turn ten,” David explained as he led them further and further into the bowels of the earth. “But not all can afford it. There are about half a dozen boys August’s age down here.” They had just come around a bend when David cocked his head up with a frown. “Hmm. The pump failed again.” Sure enough, the steady thump of the engine had faded, and silence filled the dark corridors. “Happens once or twice a week,” David added over his shoulder. “But with all the spring rain... they better get it back up and running before-” He paused in front of a blocked off corridor. “That’s odd,” he said to himself.

“What’s odd?” Belle asked, peering around the timber.

“If I recall, the rock changed and the coal vein disappeared but it’s hardly worth the wood to block it off.” David lingered for a moment more. With a shrug, he continued on. The occasional cart came by and they had to flatten themselves against the wall. Eventually, mercifully, they arrived at the end of the shaft. In a narrow, bizarrely shaped space, a dozen men were working with picks and shovels. Around them, soft clay held candles, leaving the hewer’s hands-free. They spared the trio a quick glance before they returned to their work. “Hewers,” was the only explanation David offered.

One man paused, wiping his forehead. He cast a look back, feeling three sets of eyes watching him. He recognized David, sparing him a nod, but did not bother to acknowledge Gold and Belle’s presence. “Time to set another charge, boys,” he announced with a world-weary sigh.

Another hewer down the line set down his pick to lift up a large hand drill. Within seconds, it was boring into the rock face as the others put their tools into their carts and rolled them back along the tunnel.

A man stepped forward from the group, sizing Gold up. “You’re the Demon Earl,” he declared, no question in his voice despite Gold’s mining attire. Gold did not answer but simply waited for the man to speak his piece. “Tell that bloody lord friend of yours to keep an eye on Gaston.” The man spat. “He lives better than any mine manager should.”

The man did not bother to linger for Gold’s response. He stepped back as the rest of the men began to collect their carts as they prepared for the explosion.

David cleared his throat. “Come on, there’s one more thing I want to show you on the way back.”

After a short distance, they turned into a shaft which opened into a vast gallery. The ceiling was supported by massive square pillars of earth. “Large veins are usually worked through pillar and stall mining,” David explained and then gestured towards the closest one. “It has its advantages but it leaves roughly half the coal in the pillars.”

Gold swung an appraising eye back at the coal-rich supports. It didn’t take a miner to see that despite the wooden beams propped half-haphazardly around the room removing the pillars would more than likely bring the roof down. Besides, judging by what he had seen so far, he doubted whether this Gaston fellow would bother to spend the necessary money on timber. Despite having never met the man, Gold was growing a strong disdain for him.

A muffled boom echoed into the passage as the hewer’s charge went off in the distance. The rocks groaned and trembled under their feet. An unsettling feeling but Gold was growing used to the oddities of the mine. It was only when he saw David’s face, stark white as he strained to listen that he heard it too Something coming toward them...a roaring sound growing louder by the second.

Before Gold could identify the sound, a wave exploded around the bend, filling the shaft as it came straight toward them.


	9. Chapter 9

“Climb the walls!” David shouted them as he raced away. “I have to get to August!”

Gold took a step after him, also inclined to outrun the flood, but Belle caught his arm. She tugged him towards the nearest prop. “It’ll be a miracle if he makes it.” She pointed upward at the craggy ceiling. “We need to get as high as possible!”

The water was nearly upon them when Gold grabbed Belle around the waist. He thrust her up as high as he could and she scrambled upwards, finding footholds in the hewn wall. The candle on her hat brim trembled as she went, casting light on a space between the wall and the wood itself. Gold had barely managed to hook one arm around the wood and the other around Belle when the water struck.

The wave crashed over both of them, extinguishing their candles, stranding them in the dark of the underwater river. Its current was fast and furious. Gold had to strain to hold onto the prop. Belle clung to him, wrapping herself about him like a second skin. He turned them both so that her back was against the ragged wall. He angled his body to shelter her from the current and whatever else the water may be carrying towards them.

Within seconds, something heavy hit him, knocking the remaining air from his lungs and scraping along his side. He shook with the impact, nearly losing his grip on the prop. Belle’s arms curled around him, holding him, anchoring him to her in the darkness.

Still, the water did not relent. Gold’s lungs burned, protesting the lack of oxygen. He lowered his face closer to Belle. He did not want her to see the growing recognition on his face that they might drown here. Nor could he face seeing an answering pain and fear on Belle’s face, he was too much of a coward for that. He should have turned her away that day. He should have never let her into his home, into his life, into this mine-

Belle’s hair, torn loose, curled and caressed his face as if to comfort him, to draw him into the last final embrace of death. Just as his vision darkened and Belle’s grip began to loosen, the current began to ease.

Gold instinctively twisted his face up and discovered the water level was dropping. There was a pocket of air between the water and the ceiling. Even as he sucked air into his aching lungs, he slid his arms down under Belle’s hips and lifted her until her head broke the surface of the water.

She began to cough violently, sputtering and fumbling in the still pitch black darkness. Gold had managed to wedge them between the wall and the prop, so they simply clung to each other as they processed their brush with death.

“Are you hurt?” he inquired, unable to see so much as the nose on his own face.

He felt more than saw Belle shake her head. “I’m fine. The charge must have opened a hidden feeder spring.”

He couldn’t help it. He began to laugh.

“What?” Belle demanded, her tone annoyed and wounded. “What’s so funny?”

“Is there anything you don’t know, Belle French?” he asked her, a rhetorical question, a compliment.

Belle’s voice softened. “It happens occasionally but it’s not usually so severe,” she explained as the cold water tugged at them. “If the steam pump is down, we could be here for hours,” she said against his neck, the shivering growing stronger.

Gold doubted they had hours. Eventually, fatigue and the cold would zap whatever strength they had. He did not know the mines well enough to risk trying to swim to safety. Using his left foot, Gold explored the wall until he found a ledge, which reduced the strain on his arm. He adjusted them but noticed Belle’s attention was not on him, but somewhere far off, down in the darkness where the ghosts of those wronged still dwelled. “Belle?”

“Do you think David got to August before-?”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Gold said as confident as he could muster while straining to keep them afloat. Belle’s shivering was growing more violent and this close, he could feel her starting to hyperventilate. “Belle,” he said softly and her eyes swung back to him, here and now.

“I hate this place,” she whispered, the words bursting from her in a violent emphasis. “If I could fill it back with earth tomorrow and never see another man disappear underground, I would. So many have died-” She continued to ramble, words pouring from her as wild and fierce as any tidal wave.

He shouldn’t but he pressed a kiss to her wet forehead. “It’s alright,” he murmured against her skin as he moved his lips to the curve of her cheek, a pseudo embrace. “Everything is going to be alright.”

Belle stilled, her whimpers softening. He swallowed, not retreating back but holding her close to him. She twisted her head as if to say something- and their lips brushed.

All thought fled as sparks ignited. It was just the two of them, half-drowned and shaking with cold but when their lips met, fear fled as something stronger, more desperate flooded through him. Suddenly, he could not get close enough to her, this strong, determined, wonderful woman whom he had almost lost as abruptly as he had found her.

Determined to keep her close, he molded her against him. Their pit clothes were so soaked; they barely existed between them. His thigh migrated between her legs so he could support her better. Her chest was pressed against him; her heartbeat racing in time to his own. It drove him past reason. His kiss went from simple, chaste and worshipping to something else entirely.

He parted her lips and Belle quickly followed suit, her tongue darting out to meet his own as her hands began to drift down his back. The water was at their shoulders now but neither of them noticed it was dropping.

For Belle’s part, her entire body was yearning for distraction and Gold was offering it.

When it grew hard to breathe, Belle turned her face away, just an inch but it was enough for Gold to still. They were both breathing heavy, struggling for words. His nose nuzzled the curve of her jaw. Belle pressed closer against him, only then realizing that she was straddling his hips. She broke away, about to apologize right as he loosened his hold. It was just slightly, but enough for her to exclaim, “Don’t let go!”

His grip tightened, drawing her back to him in the darkness. She clutched for his shoulders, wishing she could see him. “I would never,” he said, his voice low and sure. “I’ve got you. It’s alright.”

“I can’t swim,” Belle confessed with an annoyed huff at her own shortcoming. “If you hadn’t...I owe you my life, Lord Lonsdale. Thank you.”

“Gold,” he corrected in a tone that brooked no argument.

“Gold,” she amended after a moment’s hesitation. It was not so forward as his Christian name, and it somehow...just suited him.

“I think it’s time for us to try our luck in finding a way back out,” he murmured. “Can you hold on to the prop for a moment?”

Wanting to prove she was not another damsel in distress, she assured him she would be fine. Satisfied she had a good grip on the wood, he disappeared into the darkness. Belle clung tighter.

Fear and doubt railed at her in the darkness. She had just kissed- she had just behaved as wantonly as any strumpet-

Oh, God, she had wanted to keep kissing him until the ache in her body had dissipated. The want in her shocked her, embarrassed her, confused her. She was lost in her own thoughts when his voice came back to her from the dark depths. “The water is at my chin, but the current has calmed. Here, I can carry you-”

She could barely see him but she went willingly as he drew her flush against him. Her head bobbed just above the surface so they were cheek to cheek. “Okay?” he asked.

Belle nodded until she remembered he could not see her. “Fine,” she assured him.

HIs arms tightened around her and he took a tentative step forward only for Belle to dunk underwater. She flailed, appearing back above water just as his arms twisted her so that she straddled him. Her legs wrapped around his hips so she faced him. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, their lips inches apart.

If Belle had not been recovering from her fall, she might have had the grace to blush or protest their current arrangement. As it was, this felt secure and safe so she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held tight as Gold strode forward into the darkness.

With every step, his hips rolled against her inner thighs. Belle could not lower her face to his shoulder as the water brushed his chin. She felt heavy, a weight that ached. She grew lost in the sensation, a thick, tense pleasure rolled in her stomach with every step he took.

Gold, for his part, focused on getting them to safety. He spoke occasionally, making sure she was alright, as he slogged through the flood waters. They passed a few open shafts, but Gold continued on until they reached the metal door where August had kept watch.

“Are they-?”

Belle did not get to finish her question. A familiar noise filled the mine as the pump began working again. The water started to drop. Relieved for more than one reason, Belle slid down until her feet could just barely touch the floor. The door was submerged but all it took was a quick duck to come back out through the other side, and they were greeted by approaching candles as men clambered towards them in waist-high water, David in the lead.

“David!” Belle cried as she splashed over to greet him. “Is August all right-?”

“Barely,” David said as he took Belle’s outstretched hands. “He was shaken up and the water kept rising...I had to take him up to the surface.” He glanced between the two of them. “The water rose so quickly…. I couldn’t get back to you and I thought..”

“It was a near thing,” Gold confirmed as he joined them.

The other miners nodded knowingly, their gazes flickering from their lord to the lady in their midst. “Today isn’t unusual, my lord,” one said with a shake of his head. “Come on lads,” he said and they disappeared through the door to see if anyone had not been as fortunate.


	10. Chapter 10

During their ascension to the surface, Gold wrapped an arm around Belle. He ignored David’s concerned look. He wasn’t letting Belle out of his sight until she was submerged in a hot bath at Askham. Belle did not seem to mind. She leaned into him, eyes closed in exhaustion. The pulley creaked and the platform shook but he barely noticed it, too fine-tuned into her every breath to notice anything else.

When they dismounted back on the surface, the wind cut through their wet clothes like a knife. There were men milling about and shouting but their words were drowned out by the engine. Belle lingered at his side, shivering from head to foot until he nudged her. “Go change back into your dry clothes before you freeze to death.”

Belle managed a weary smile. Without a word, she turned and hurried to change her clothes. Gold stood there and watched her until David cleared his throat. Only then did Gold recall he too had dry clothes at hand. “Are you going back down?” Gold asked David when it grew apparent the man did not have anything to change into.

“Normally would,” David admitted as he lingered by the window to watch the goings-on outside. There was some kind of commotion. “Looks like there was a casualty,” David said solemnly. “They just brought a body up from the pit. I best go deal with this. You change and I’ll meet you by the horses.”

Gold did as he was bid. When he exited the shed, a body was being laid out. A brawny man stood over the body, a disgusted look on his face. “That’s the mine manager,” David said under his breath. “Gaston.”

The man was brawny, nearly the size of a bull. He was a handsome man, with a cleft chin and slicked back hair as fashionable as any dandy. Gold could not imagine any young lady refusing this man, and then felt a swell of stupid, masculine pride that Belle had turned this man down.

Gaston was barking orders at the men around him. They all hurried to follow suit, but none of them quite met the mine manager's eye. After the ordeal under the ground, Gold had no intention of meeting Gaston today.

From a nearby shed, Belle emerged wearing her borrowed boy riding clothes. As it happened, Gaston chose that exact moment to turn. He spotted Belle and despite having just been standing over a dead man, his face twisted into a smile at the sight of her. “Belle! What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here? Finally reconsidering my offer-?”

Gold stepped forward before Gaston could finish. “I asked Miss French to bring me here,” he said smoothly with a nod in her general direction. He did not take his eyes off the man in front of him. He could get a man’s character in seconds and he already knew Gaston was not a man one turned their back on if they wanted to live to see tomorrow.

Gaston frowned, taken aback. He took in Gold’s riding clothes and his mouth curled into a challenging snarl. “I don’t know who you think you are but you’re trespassing.”

“The mining company leased this land from the Lonsdale estate,” Gold said, his voice deceptively calm as he gazed coolly back at the mine manager. The men still above ground were starting to gather around them. “The last time I checked I was Lord Lonsdale.”

Their audience had grown. Gaston wisely decided better manners might serve him better. “I apologize,” he said as he gestured dismissively at the body behind him. “You see, there’s been a fatal accident. A man has drowned.” The penny dropped as Gaston realized that Gold’s hair was wet. His eyes narrowed. “You’ve been down into the pit,” he said before he turned to the assembled workers. “Who’s responsible for taking Lonsdale down?”

Before anyone could point the finger, Gold said, “I may have given the impression that I had your permission. But seeing how my old friend, Lord Killian Jones, owns this mine…”

The threat was veiled but it struck home. Gaston’s fingers curled into fists at his side. He was openly considering violence but he managed to refrain himself. “His lordship has granted me full authority and seeing how you very likely nearly drowned, there is a reason why I don’t permit just anyone down in the pit.”

“Always a pleasure to encounter a conscientious manager,” Gold replied his own lip curling. “Miss French, I believe I’ve seen all I care to see.” He turned to guide her towards the horses. He kept himself firmly between Gaston and Belle. If he had been concerned about Belle’s safety in the mine, it was nothing to the feeling he had when Gaston had laid eyes on her.

\--

After dinner, they both retired to the library. It was unspoken that neither were ready to quite be alone, though neither of them had dared to bring up the kiss. Belle was nearly bursting with the need to acknowledge it. Though she was unsure whether to apologize or to ask him to kiss her again.

Unaware of her predicament, Gold settled down to work on some correspondence. Only the siren’s call of the library could distract her from her own thoughts.

As it happened, her distraction came in the form of the Gold family Bible. It was larger than any Bible she had ever seen, bound in leather and gilt. She traced the spine before gently lifting it from the shelf and bringing it to a nearby table.

Gold continued to write, his face furrowed in concentration, at his own desk.

Belle flipped open to the first page and found what she had been looking for: the Gold family tree. Different hands had written names and deaths, black and blue ink, some faded to brown…

As Belle examined the chart, she noticed the family had been far from prolific. There was no remaining near relations. If Gold did not remarry...the Earldom of Lonsdale would die with him.

Unable to resist, Belle turned the page to the more recent entries of the tree. She found Malcolm's name easily, for next to it, in pencil instead of ink, someone had written “Fiona, surname unknown” and underneath, still in pencil, was the birth of “Robert Gold”.

Belle stared at it, sickened. Gold had told her his father had hoped to replace him but...she had never thought he would be erased entirely from the Gold history.

Too late, she realized Gold had come to see what had engrossed her. “My father had my mother in a drunken stupor. A lark, he told me years later. He refused to let her step foot in Askham Hall and in turn, she refused to tell him she had born him a son...until she dropped me off here when I was five years old.” His face was impassive as if carved from stone. He picked up the Bible, snapped it closed and placed it back on the shelf.

Mary Margaret often bemoaned Belle’s curiosity, warning her of its consequences. “I didn’t mean to pry,” she told him, a poor apology but the truth.

“But you did anyway,’ he grumbled. “Why are you here, Belle? Really?”

Belle did not let him intimidate her. “I am here to save Avonlea.’

“Are you?” He took a step closer and Belle swayed, torn between pulling away and stepping closer. She had never wanted a man like this, she had never wanted anything like this. “Or are you here to save me?”

His arms closed around her as soon as their lips met. This was something far hungrier than their kiss in the mine. Belle’s eyes slid shut as she disappeared into the kiss. Everything else faded away as his tongue rasped against hers as he opened her to his explorations. His breath was rough, panting- or was that her’s? Belle strained to listen but as his hand stroked along her side, she could not concentrate on anything but the feel of him-

Until the library door opened.

Belle broke away to see Astrid in the doorway, staring back at her in open-mouthed horror. Gold moved to turn around to see what had caught her attention, and Astrid whirled away and the door swung shut behind her.

Gold cursed under his breath. He released her and with a muffled good night, he too turned and fled.

Leaving her alone and confused and lost.


	11. Chapter 11

Belle did not sleep well. Every time she closed her eyes, she only saw Gold fleeing from her.

She may have slept for a moment or more but morning came quickly. She laid there for a moment, not daring to show her face downstairs. She was a common village girl, throwing herself at a lord- God, what he must think of her!

He had kissed her back. Belle did not have much experience (or any) kissing but she was fairly certain he had enjoyed it. Until Astrid had interrupted them.

Belle decided to flee to the town for the day. It was Sunday, market day, and she could spend the entirety of the day outside and perhaps even dine with the Nolans...

Cheered by her fail-proof plan, Belle stopped by the kitchens to offer a ride to Mrs. Potts, who accepted as she was going to visit with her sister. Belle relaxed as they chatted along the drive. She dropped Mrs. Potts off with the understanding Mrs. Potts’ sister would bring her back up to the manor that afternoon. With that, Belle headed into the market.

Her peace was short-lived. Belle parked the pony cart just shy of the market square and took the side street. When she emerged back into the sunlight, she found the entire marketplace gathered by the fountain.

As one, they turned. Astrid stood by her older sister, Reul. If Astrid was sweet but silly, her older sister was smart but savage. Reul was older than Belle and also unwed.

Belle had never been fond of Reul, for a myriad of reason, one being her utter devotion to the church and her strict views on everything and anything.

As soon as she saw Belle. Ruel pointed a finger and announced, “And here she is! The very wicked wanton who you all have entrusted your children!”

It took Belle a moment to understand what was happening. Only when Astrid ducked her head, did Belle realize the girl had told them what she had seen last night. The town schoolmistress in the arms of the Demon Earl.

Belle steeled her spine. She had known her bargain was going to be difficult for multiple reasons, but she had not quite anticipated this. “Good morning to you, Reul. And Astrid, I could have given you a ride to town today if I had known you were attending the market.”

Astrid looked miserable. She opened her mouth to say something but Reul cut her off. “She does not deny it!” Reul declared. “My poor, innocent sister walked in upon this shameless slut in the Demon Earl’s embrace, half-naked and moments away from fornication.”

Mothers clasped their hands over their children’s ears. Everyone’s eyes were on Belle. Neighbors, former students, friends- people she had known her entire life stared at her, every one of them shocked. Some showed disbelief while others...others had no problem believing this.

Why shouldn’t they? It was true.

Belle refused to be cowed. She tilted her chin. “Astrid witnessed a kiss but it was a kiss of gratitude to Lord Lonsdale, a man who just yesterday went to the mines, saved my life in a flood, and who sat down upon his safe return to his manor and began to craft letters to help Avonlea.” There were more mutterings but Belle did not dare stop. “It was not fornication,” she said, stumbling over the word. “I was as clothed as I am as I stand before you now-”

“You can’t deny you are living with the earl!” Reul snarled.

“Why should I?” Belle retorted. “Your own sister is now living under the same roof as the earl.”

“My sister lives with the other maids but you, Belle French, are with him at every waking moment. Perhaps you are not yet his mistress but it is only a matter of time.”

\--

Gold had not slept well either. When he awoke, Dove had told him Belle had gone to the market for the day. This had put him in a sour mood, having been wanting to talk to her, to explain…

The maid had interrupted him from doing something that he would have deeply regretted. If he had...Belle had only been in his life for less than a week but life was different with her in it. He could recall all too well the silences and the loneliness that had followed him from one part of the world to the other…if he had...if they had...things would end up like they always did between a man and a woman..and she would leave and he would be alone again.

And he found he very much did not want Belle to leave.

Gold decided to go out for a ride to exercise some of his lingering tension. He had not gone far when his path crossed with Belle, already heading back to the manor.

If he expected a warm greeting, he was disappointed. “My lord,” Belle said with a stiff nod as she encouraged her mount to trot faster.

As the Dark One fell in step beside the pony cart, Gold saw Belle had been crying. “Belle, what-?”

“Don’t,” she warned but he ignored her. He leaned over to gather the reins from her, halting the cart entirely. Belle simply jumped off the other side and started walking. Swearing under his breath, Gold hurried to follow suit. The cart pony was content to simply stand there and wait, but he had to make quick work to tie The Dark One to the cart, much to the stallion’s displeasure.

He had to hurry to catch up to Belle. She heard him coming and whirled, eyes blazing at him in painful, agonizing bravery. “I would thank you to leave me be for a bit, my lord. I’m not quite well.”

“I can see that,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “What happened?”

Belle sniffled furiously. “What do you think happened? Astrid told her sister what she saw last night and now the whole village thinks I’m your-”

He couldn’t bear to let her finish that sentence. He could see the raw pain, the indignation that anyone would so much of think that of her. He castigated himself. They had survived something that should have killed them, they had been drawn together, relieved to be alive...but why then did he want to kiss her again, here and now, where anyone could see?

“Ignore it,” he said quietly. “The rumors and the hatred and the mistrust. There’s nothing else you can do. Ignore it.”

“I can’t-”

“Would you return home, Belle?” he asked, terrified of the answer.

“Of course not,” Belle snapped. “I won’t let them win. Besides, the second I leave Askham Hall, so will you.”

And it was true. If she left, there would be nothing keeping him here. He would be gone before she even made it back to her cottage. “But is it worth all this? If you wish to leave, the door is open to you.”

“You are a coward!” she exclaimed at him, stomping a foot so mud sprayed her skirt and his riding boots. The words did not sting. He knew he was a coward. He had fled Lonsdale four years ago and had not stopped running since. “At the first difficulty, you would release me just so you can run as far as you can from Lonsdale, from Avonlea, from me-”

“Belle-”

“I made my choice,” she told him. “You won’t be rid of me so easily as that.”

As she turned and trudged back to the pony cart, he could only hope she meant it.


	12. Chapter 12

They rolled into London proper just as dusk fell over the city. As opposed to Avonlea, London was just coming to life as the sun set over the city. People came and went at a frantic speed, the noises so loud Belle could barely focus on one thing over the other, her eyes darting to and from one scene to the next as they rolled past great buildings on either side of the carriage.

Gold watched all this from beside her with his trademark coy smile. “I was seventeen when I first came to London.”

“And you were unimpressed?” Belle guessed as she nearly pressed her nose against the carriage pane. She was eager to get out of the coach and stretch her legs but as the multitude of people swept past each other on the street, she realized traveling by coach was a luxury in the city itself.

“I nearly fell out of the carriage window,” Gold teased as his hands gently pulled her away from doing the same thing.

“It’s so…” A few words popped in her head. Overwhelming. Majestic. Fascinating. Ethereal. Teeming.-

Gold simply nodded, completely understanding. “One either loves London or hates it,” he told her.

It had taken some time but they had fallen back into a casual banter over the long, fast-paced journey from Avonlea to London. They had stopped at a few inns over the course of the long week, Gold introducing her as his cousin as they booked separate rooms.

She felt like a fool every time she thought about how she had thrown herself at him, a lonely man with no one else in the world, of course, he had kissed her back, had caressed her...but lust was just a bodily function. And as much as she wanted to feel him against her again, she couldn’t bear the idea of being turned down again. So Belle kept her distance. “Will we have time to see Westminster Abbey?” she asked.

“We will see everything you wish to see,” he assured her.

They were in London to see if they could track down Lord Jones and secure financing for the quarry. Romantic entanglements were off the table, she told herself sternly. She would enjoy London while she was here and would worry about what tomorrow brought tomorrow.

\--

Askham House was a broad, classical facade but it was too dark to see much when they finally arrived in Mayfair. Gold helped her up the marble stairs where the temporary staff was waiting for them. Both of them were tired and sore from the journey, so Gold introduced her as his cousin and they retired to their chambers.

The next morning, Belle woke to sunlight (a rarity in London as she understood it) and hurried downstairs to find Gold in the breakfast parlor. He was sipping tea and reading-

“Is that a newspaper?” She collected it from his hands before he had a chance to respond. The Morning Post was indeed dated that very day, steamed so the ink did not rub off on her fingers.

Gold did not protest at the loss of his reading material. He merely leaned over to pour her a cup of tea. Belle had read plenty of newspapers but never on the day they were actually printed.

“Did you sleep well?” Gold asked her as he handed her tea.

Belle accepted it with a grateful murmur but did not look up from the headline about Napoleon’s latest outrageous act on the Continent. “Not really,” she confessed. “Mayfair is nearly as loud of the mine.” She had heard all sorts of comings and goings but she had been tired enough that she could easily fall back asleep.

“You’ll get used to it,” he assured her. “Mind if I borrow the society notes?”

‘The society notes?” Belle teased as she slipped those pages out.

“I skimmed it to see if there was any mention of Lord Killian Jones but no luck. However, both the Duke of Carroll and Lord Anders are in town. They’re both old friends,” he told her. “One of them may have some idea where Jones has disappeared to. I need to see to a few things but when you’ve finished with breakfast,” he pointed at the hot plates she had not even noticed in pursuit of the paper, “we will need to see to your wardrobe.”

Belle looked down at her dress. “But-”

“You can bring the newspaper in the carriage,” he called out over his shoulder.

\--

The small, discreet sign over the dressmaker’s shop read “Armadio’s”. They had barely gotten through the door when a large, buxom woman with white hair powdered and puffed launched herself at them.

“Tesoro!” she cried as she raised her lips to press air kisses to either side of Gold’s face. “Where have you been?” She stepped back long enough to examine him with a critical air. “You look thin.”

“Cara, this is my friend Miss French. She needs a complete wardrobe.”

Cara’s eyes swung to Belle, dimples emerging. “Why, Tesoro! You’ve brought me a present!”

Before Belle could say a word in greeting, Cara began to circle her with an appraising eye. When Cara finished her circle, she declared, “Jewel tones, simplicity at its most regal. You’ve brought me a pearl, Tesoro. I intend to set it in the finest setting and display it to the world.”

Cara ushered Belle into an ornate, carpeted fitting room. The walls were pink and purple wallpaper with gold gilt with plush white couches that were both inviting and suggestive. Gold followed after them, perfectly at ease in this ultra-feminine setting. Belle was instructed to stand on a platform in the middle of the room as a seamstress and an apprentice joined the three of them.

Belle played a mannequin for the next hour as Cara and her team draped her in fabrics, discussing styles, colors, and materials that all sounded vaguely familiar. Cara asked her questions from time to time “Do you prefer a French bustline or an English?” or “These stays are much more comfortable than last year’s atrocities” and most confusingly “Gold for Gold, eh, lovely?”

Cara’s cheerful manner quickly won Belle over despite her initial unease. It was easy to tell that a yard of some of these fabrics was more than Belle’s annual salary as schoolmistress in Avonlea. As Cara chatted with Gold about certain styles of the year or the ton’s current fixation, Belle let her mind wander to what she would like to see during her time in London.

“What do you think, Perla?” Cara interrupted her thoughts as she held up a length of blue silk around Belle’s shoulders.

Caught, Belle offered the dressmaker an apologetic smile. “I’m a bit out of my depth,” she confessed as her hand came up to touch the fabric. It was a lovely blue, and it felt soft and airy against her throat. “I was just thinking about all the places I’d like to see while in London.”

“My dear, you’ll be the only thing people want to see this week,” she said with a pointed arch of her brow. “The Earl of Lonsdale in town with a beauty, it’ll be the talk of the ton by tonight.”

“Wait- I-!”

The apprentice hurried forward from the other room with more fabrics and the conversation dissolved back into styles. By the time they had all agreed upon the bolts lying half-haphazardly around Belle’s feet, Cara was looking pleased and Gold was looking amused. “One moment,” Cara sang as she disappeared out of the room. Belle took a step down off the platform, her knees and back protesting at the strain of standing for so long after days spent cooped up in a carriage.

Cara came sailing back into the room with three gowns over her arm. “These should be your size,” the dressmaker informed her as she took her arm and led her behind a screen.

“I couldn’t-” Belle protested but the seamstress had already started pulling at her plain dress.

“Nonsense,” Cara declared as she picked out the first one, a rose-colored challis. “The lady who ordered these still hasn’t paid for her last three. She’ll just have to swivel.”

Gold’s muffled laughter floated to the three ladies behind the screen and Cara gave Belle a wicked wink. Belle was in the process of donning a muslin shift that was so fine it was transparent. The next bit was a short, lightweight corset which Belle protested against but was overridden. “You have such a small waist, it’s hardly necessary,” Cara told her with an envious pout. “Still, it’s more for the line of the gown.”

The corset was thankfully not as uncomfortable as Belle had dreaded and seconds later, the gown was dropped over her head as Cara started to do up the complicated back fastenings. “She’ll need a maid,” Cara called out to Gold. “To get her dressed in the mornings.”

Belle colored as the implication of who would help undo the dress in the evening grew apparent by Gold’s coughing. Cara winked at her again, before she twirled Belle about to see her reflection in the mirror.

Gone was the schoolmistress of Avonlea. Cara smiled proudly beside this strange, new woman in rose. Belle blinked and the woman in rose blinked back, her eyes as wide and blue as the sea. Belle swallowed and her reflection did the same, drawing attention to the glowing skin on display around her neckline.

“It’s rather...low-cut,” Belle whispered to Cara.

To her surprise, Cara laughed. “Oh darling,” she sang as she put the edge of her hands to Belle’s bodice. “We’ll actually need to cut it to here before you leave.”

“But-!”

Cara didn’t let her finish, dropping her hand just above Belle’s nipples which were tight in embarrassment. “This low is considered indecent, pet. Why most of my customers won’t even buy a gown unless they’re in danger of popping out.” She winked at her. “Keeps the gentleman interested.”

The next gown was a day dress and had a more respectable neckline, though still too low to ever wear in Avonlea. As Cara clucked over the hem, Belle took a moment to remind herself that no one she knew would ever see her in these garments. No one besides Gold and Belle couldn’t help but wonder what he would think of Cara’s decolletage adjustments.

They finished up with the third dress just as the apprentice brought in a tray of tea and cakes. Cara began to list out the various stockings, shoes, gloves, cloaks, and unmentionables that Belle would need. Gold simply nodded and approved them one by one as Belle took solace in her tea. They had been there for almost three hours when Cara popped up to embrace Belle in a tight hug.

“Arrivederci, Perla,” Cara sang with two air kisses before she swanned out of the room. “Bring her back soon, Tesoro!”

They spilled back out into the afternoon sunlight as the shop door swung closed behind them. “I don’t think she’s really Italian,” Belle said with a careful look over her shoulder to make sure Cara hadn’t appeared.

Gold chuckled. “Madam La Grande Bouche was notorious in Paris,” he said as he helped her into the carriage. “An English woman who did not hesitate to make the most daring fashion choices that even most Parisians gasped at. She relocated to London when the Continent closed and rebranded herself Italian.”

“I like her,” Belle decided as she settled her skirt about her feet.

“As do I,” Gold said as he sat down beside her. He rapped the side of the carriage and it took off.

It took Belle a moment to realize they were not headed back to Mayfair and she turned to Gold who pretended to ignore her inquisitive look. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Gold replied enigmatically.

Anticipating another stop such as Cara’s salon, Belle settled back to watch the town pass by. She may have a disgruntled expression on her face, having hoped to spend some of today exploring the city, when the curricle pulled up in front of an enormous Gothic church. Belle sat straight up, recognizing it immediately. She was in the process of sticking her head out the window to get a better look when Gold opened the door.

“This is Westminster Abbey!” she told him as he helped her down. She twisted to move around the curricle, stopping abruptly to stand in the face of such beauty and splendor and simply gaze upon it. Gold appeared her elbow as she stared up at it, lost in the lines of the twin towers arching toward heaven.

Wordlessly, Gold took her elbow and steered her toward the entrance. He had to, for Belle could not tear her eyes from the building’s exterior.

When they entered the high vaulted interior, there were other visitors scattered about but Belle did not even notice them. Dark shadows made the ceiling look endless, while jewel-toned windows cast rich colors upon the floor. Pointed arches and columns were everywhere she looked and Belle’s eyes swam with tears. She clutched Gold’s arm as they moved up a side aisle.

Gold lead her to a wall lined with monuments. There were names of the famous monarchs of old, including Elizabeth I and Mary Queen of Scots besides authors such as Chaucer and scientists such as Newton. Belle’s fingers ghosted over the names as she walked upon their bones and tried to remember how to breathe.

“Thank you,” she said as she turned to him, so quickly that they bumped against each other.

“For what?” he asked, truly uncertain.

Belle’s heart ached as she gazed back at him, wondering how he didn’t know, how he didn’t realize. But she remembered his words on the carriage path and she forced herself to simply smile as she turned back to the chapel of Edward the Confessor, king, and saint. “For showing me the world,” she said quietly.

They spent an hour exploring the church. Gold told her about the various houses of worship he had seen in his travels, synagogues, mosques, and temples. He detailed how they were different and yet how they imparted a feeling of grandeur and hope whether they were large or small.

By the time they returned to Mayfair, Belle was looking forward to a nap but Gold had not quite finished his itinerary of surprises. As they made their way through a peaceful street, Gold knocked on the side of the curricle and the groom reined the horses into a stop.

He did not wait for the groom to help, but jumped down and held his hand out for Belle. At her quizzical look, he indicated the house they had just passed. Belle noticed the gold knocker was up, which meant the family was in residence.

“Who are we visiting?” she asked as he led her up the stairs and rapped on the door with the lion-head knocker.

Gold didn’t quite meet her eye. “Why, my dear stepmother.”

Otherwise known as the young widowed dowager Countess of Ashkam, Regina Gold- the woman who was widely believed to have been Gold’s mistress.


	13. Chapter 13

As they entered the house of the woman who had been in the center of the scandal of the Demon Lord, Belle was contemplating how to best wring Gold’s neck and craning her own to see around the hall.

On that fateful night four years ago, the servants had found Gold in the countess’s bedroom. It was common knowledge, accepted when other parts of the story had remained fuzzy, a constant piece of evidence in the Demon Earl’s damnation. it was something Belle had not paid much thought to but now as a butler asked their names, Belle realized she was about to see the two of them together, and the thought made her stomach twist.

Without warning, a toddler ran shrieking with laughter through the front hall. A nursemaid was on his heels, followed seconds later by a laughing lady in her mid-thirties. The maid didn’t give them a moment’s thought as she grabbed the child up but the lady’s expression changed the second her eyes landed on Gold.

“Robert!” she cried. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d returned to London, you beast?”

He bowed. “I only arrived yesterday, Regina.”

The dowager countess dismissed his excuse with a wave of her hand but the smile on her face countered the severity of her protests. The dowager countess was glowing, healthier and happier than Belle had ever seen her in Avonlea. Her eyes fell upon where Belle stood and familiarity flickered in her eyes. “You’re Miss French,” she said stepping around Robert. “The schoolmistress from Avonlea. We met when Robert set up the endowment for the school.”

Belle glanced between them, perplexed. “I thought the school was your ladyship’s project,” Belle faltered. She turned to Gold. “You set up the endowment?”

“My husband disapproved of Robert’s progressive ideas,” Regina said before Gold could reply. “It was easier if I played the public part. How is the school? Are you still schoolmistress?”

“She’s taken a leave of absence,” Gold interrupted smoothly, “in an attempt to educate me.”

Before Regina could reply, the toddler let out another shriek, much to the embarrassment of the nursemaid. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said. “I don’t know how Master Henry continues to sneak off.”

Reina leaned forward and kissed her son’s cheek. “He’s very inventive, isn’t he?” It was clear she was proud of the troublemaker even as he gurgled and laughed, chubby arms reaching out for his mother. Regina turned to Gold, “Come meet your godson.”

Gold took the naked child from the relieved nursemaid’s arms. The child’s arms went to his shoulder-length hair, taking large fistfuls of it and yanking. As Gold chattered to the boy, Belle could not help but look to see if there was a resemblance between them, despite the child clearly being no older than two. Much too young to be a product of a liaison four years ago.

Regina did not miss Belle’s inquisitive glance. “Miss French, would you care to join me for tea? Robert and I have a great deal to discuss.”

For his part, Gold handed back over Henry to the maid. “Do we?”

The countess’s eyes narrowed at him but her lips were pulled back as she tried and failed to hide her grin. She directed them into a drawing room and rang for refreshments. Belle retreated to the safety of a cup of tea for the second time that day, while Gold and Regina chatted about people and places she had never heard of.

Feeling distinctly uneasy, Belle was about to make an excuse to go lie down, just to get out of the room when Regina paused the conversation. In the distance, Henry was crying, growing louder by the second. “Robert, could you go see to Henry?” Regina asked. “He’ll just keep crying until either I or Daniel go to him and-”

Regina did not wait for him to agree. She rang for the butler who collected Gold and led him towards the nursery. Leaving Belle alone with the countess.

Regina turned her dark brown eyes to Belle knowingly. “Forgive us for our rudeness- I hadn’t expected such a surprise and four years is a long time and he hardly bothered to write.”

At a loss of what to say, Belle simply offered, “I’m sure you are glad to have him home, Lady Ashkam.”

“I don’t use that title anymore,” Regina said as she selected a butter cake. “I’m simply Mrs. Daniel Colter. Or Regina to a friend of Robert’s.”

Belle hurried to mask her surprise. Women in Regina’s position always kept their former rank, even if they remarried commoners.

Belle must not have been quick enough for Regina’s face hardened. “I never wanted to be a countess, Miss French,” she said with an acrid bite. “Daniel, my husband- and I grew up together and always knew that we wanted to marry. Daniel was the son of a horse merchant with few prospects and I was the daughter of the peerage. When Lord Lonsdale made his...offer, my parents did not care if he was forty years my senior or if I was in love, within a year I was a Viscountess.”

Belle hurried to close her mouth before a fly might land it in. “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment’s pause. “I had...no idea.”

“No, I made sure no one did,” Regina said as she began to crumble the butter cake between her fingers. “I was a prize broodmare, he meant to breed me and he made every effort to visit my bed but I proved to be a disappointment to him.” The way her eyes lit up in victory made it clear that she was indeed proud to have foiled the old earl. “I don’t know what I would have done...if not for Robert.”

The butter cake was a mound of crumbs at this point. Belle, uncertain of what to say, reflected on what it must have been like to been ripped away from everything one knew and loved into a nightmare of only being wanted for one thing.

In the distance, Henry’s cries turned to shrieks of delight and Regina’s face eased back into a smile. Her hand drifted to her stomach and Belle saw the slight swell there. “Congratulations,” Belle said and meant it wholeheartedly. “When are you due?”

“Autumn,” Regina said. “You are very perceptive, Miss French. I haven’t even had to let out my stays yet.”

“You’re glowing,” Belle said in way of an explanation. For Regina did glow, with an inner serenity and happiness that seemed foreign to Belle.

Regina’s shoulders relaxed as she slipped out of the past and back into the present. “You’re easy to talk to, Miss French,” she said as she leaned back into her chair. “A far cry from most Avonleans.”

Surprisingly, Belle did not take offense at this sting. “I’ll admit I did not know what to expect,” she confessed in way of an apology.

“I hardly expected Robert to find someone in Avonlea of all places but I’m glad he found you.”

“Oh,” Belle said as she dropped her gaze back to the bottom of her cup. “It’s not...we’re not-’

“He wouldn’t have brought you here if he didn’t care about you,” Regina said, utterly convinced.

Before Belle could explain the bargain that had brought them together, Gold reappeared from the nursery. His jacket was askew and had streaks of spittle down the side. Once more, the conversation drifted further and further away from Belle.

A few minutes later, as they were about to take their leave, Daniel Colter returned home. He was a tall, lanky man with dark features and a warm smile. Regina introduced him to Robert, and Daniel hurried to shake his hand. “An honor,” Daniel said as he clasped a palm over their joined hands. “I have been looking forward to meeting you since Regina first wrote to me about you.”

Neither man looked as if they were greeting a rival, and as they drove away in the curricle, Belle was thoroughly confused but also slightly relieved.

“What is it?” Gold asked as he noticed the expression on her face.

“I’m just glad Countess Lonsdale is happy,” Belle told him. When Regina had left Avonlea, she had disappeared entirely. No one had ever known what had happened to her...but Belle was glad Regina had returned to the love of her life and was happy in the life she had always been meant to have.

“She put Wales behind her,” Gold said as he watched the houses slide by through the window. “She married Colter one year to the day after my father’s death. He’s a good man and he loves her to distraction. He would have waited a hundred years for her.”

\--

The cue stick clicked against the ivory ball and veered off. “Drat!” Belle scowled at the tip of her cue.

Belle’s first day in London had been full of one surprise after another and she was enjoying the quiet simplicity of playing billiards with Gold. He was much more at ease on this flat table, and Belle spent most of the game watching him prowl from one end of the table to the other, enjoying the way his muscles flexed as he bent down.

She missed the approaching footsteps and was startled when a voice asked, “Ah, Robert, so, this is how you spend your time these days.”

Gold lowered his cue to greet his guest. “Victor, I see you got my note.”

The newcomer was dressed with an elegance just short of a dandy. He had blonde hair that was almost white and moved as quietly as a cat. He came into the room as Gold performed the introductions. “Belle, this is Lord Anders. Victor, my friend, Miss French.”

Belle wanted to analyze what exactly Gold meant by friends. She had thus far been his housekeeper, his cousin and now his friend. She was starting to wonder herself.

“Pleasure to meet you, my lord,” Belle said in lieu of turning to Gold and demanding him to explain exactly what she was.

Lord Anders bowed over her hand. As he straightened, he studied her curiously, as if trying to figure out her role. For her part, Belle hoped when he figured it out, he’d tell her.

“You’re Welsh, Miss French?”

“I thought my English was impeccable,” Belle said with a nod. “What gave me away?”

“The Welsh have music in their voices,” the Lord of Anders said with a charming nod of his head. He turned to Gold. “Should I call back later?”

“I wanted to ask you about Jones’ whereabouts,” Gold said as he put down his cue stick. He succinctly explained the situation at the Avonlea mine. “Jones seems to have abandoned the business, which isn’t like him.”

Lord Anders listened to all of this with a frown. “You didn’t hear he went back into the navy? He bought another commission not long after you left the country.”

“Is he…?”

Victor shook his head. “Jones is nearly indestructible as always. His temper keeps him alive.”

“Is he in France now?”

“Wellington had him sent back to London after an unfortunate accident. He’s recovered for the most part but he’s still on leave.”

It was easy to see Victor was not telling Gold everything. “You’ve seen him,” Gold guessed. ”What is it?”

“Too much war,” Victor said with a shake of his head. “I met him by accident in the park. He’s lean as a wolf, wild and desperate. He doesn’t remember what peace is like.”

Gold’s face darkened. “Is he staying at Ashburton House?”

Victor shook his head. “He’s taken rooms. And before you ask, I don’t know where. He didn’t volunteer any information. I left with the impression that he had no interest in entertaining old acquaintances. Gold…” Lord Anders paused as if trying to figure out how to best proceed. “It might be better if you don’t try and call upon him. When we were talking...your name came up and…”

Gold’s face darkened. “He can have his moods but I need to talk to him about the Avonlea mine. If he doesn’t want to run it properly, if he wants to play soldier, he can sell the lease back to me. It’s my land those are my people and I will not permit the present situation to continue.”

Belle could barely believe her own ears. Neither could the Lord of Anders.

“Stubborn as always,” he said in exasperation. “I would suggest meeting in a public place. Jefferson is hosting a ball next week, and Jones will more than likely be attending.”

“As shall we,” Gold said with a nod towards Belle.

“Ah,” Victor murmured. “I’m not...sure that it’s the sort of event for Miss French.”

“Why not?” Belle challenged.

Victor looked uncomfortable. “It’s no place for a respectable, unmarried female.”

“I’m not respectable,” Belle declared as she got to her feet. “However, it is rather late. I’m very glad to have met you, Lord Anders. Gold, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When her footsteps had faded away, Victor turned to Gold. “Explain.”

In a few sentences, Gold explained their unlikely bargain: her presence in return for his influence in improving the lot of the residents of Avonlea. He did not go into details but Victor as always missed nothing. “I’ve never known you to ruin an innocent,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Belle is well-educated, tough-minded, stubborn and old enough to know what she wants.” Gold did not add that out of the two of them, Belle was the more comfortable in this arrangement and constantly driving him to distraction. He had taken her to London to get her out of the eyes of the gossips of Avonlea, to see her relax, to show her the world was not as narrow and desperate as Avonlea.

“Find a widower for a housekeeper and a worldly woman as a mistress, Robert,” Lord Anders murmured. “You have a woman with a heart and a conscience, do not use those as weapons against her.”

Gold growled, baring his teeth. “I have no intention of hurting her.”

“I visited Avonlea once,” Victor reminded him. “I was curious to see what had enticed Jones out there, and I found it narrow-minded and judgemental. Hardly different than London but much more provincial. The second Miss French crossed your threshold in service for an ulterior motive, you condemned her. The moment she departed in a carriage to London, you ensured she could never go home. Is that what you want Gold? To tie her to you in every means imaginable but in holy matrimony?”

This hit much to close to home and Gold stood to pour himself a brandy. He did not offer any to his friend. “I will not marry again” he muttered to the wall as he poured himself more than he ought. “Once was once too often.”

“What exactly did happen between you and Milah?”

Gold’s fingers tightened to the point where the glass threatened to shatter in his grip. “That is my business, and mine alone.”

Behind him, Victor simply sighed. “I’m sorry, Robert.”

“Don’t be. At least she had the consideration to die.” Gold turned and held his glass up in a mocking salute. “To Milah, who taught me many useful lessons.”

He threw back the brandy in one long swallow and hurled it in the fireplace.


	14. Chapter 14

Belle had slept poorly, not due to the lights and sounds of Mayfair but due to something else that lingered with her in the silence of her room. Downstairs, she knew Gold and Victor were talking...about her, about the mine, and about other things that she did not know.

In the morning, she dressed with care even though she assumed Gold would sleep late. She was surprised when he emerged from the breakfast parlor. He met her at the bottom step. Without saying a word, he reached out his hand to draw her own into his. He gingerly raised it to his lips and pressed his lips against her skin.

Belle wavered on the stair, as he stared into her eyes over their joined hands. His face had an element of apology and tenderness. When he dropped her hand back, it tingled at her side as they both stared at each other with mutual expressions of yearning.

“I’m going to be tied up with business for most of the day, but I’ll be back by late afternoon,” he finally said into the silence that stretched between them. It was not the words Belle had hoped he would say but she accepted that Gold was not a man that was comfortable with emotions and let it at that. “Is there anything you would particularly like to do this evening?”

“Would it be possible to visit Astley’s Amphitheatre?”

His eyes sparkled. “Why am I not surprised that you want to go see clowns and equestrians?”

“I can see opera and plays another night,” Belle said with a twist of her lips though he was grinning in a way that said her choice was far preferable than the anything else she could have surprised him with. “Is there a show tonight?”

“I’ll secure tickets,” he assured her. “There should be guidebooks in the library so you can plan out your next adventure.”

Her day set the pattern for the week to come. Gold attended business during the day but any other time he showing her London. They spent mornings in the park, afternoons visiting the crown jewels in the Tower to The Egyptian Hall to Week’s Mechanical Museum, which had a clockwork tarantula that Belle found fascinating. She even dragged him to Madame Tussaud’s Waxworks, despite his warning that some of the figures of the French Revolution victims would be gruesome. (They were but she didn’t let him know that).

Some days they went to cabinet makers and fabric shops to select new furnished for Ashkahn and Belle liked those days just as much.

Victor joined them for dinner a few times that week. For his part, Lord Anders was courtly and protective of Belle.

Gold did not kiss her again, but their hands brushed against each other often and every now and again he would lean against her in the carriage and she could rest her head upon his shoulder.

Avonlea did not fade from memory; Gold continued to work on business financing and research and shared everything with her but their time in London was the calm before the storm. Belle couldn’t tell what form of storm was approaching but she could feel it brewing as time trickled away in London

\--

Her maid slipped in one last hairpin and sighed in pride at a job well done. Belle studied her reflection and couldn’t help but agree. Belle’s long hair had been styled into soft coils, a simple style. “Told you,” the maid declared. “And you were worried, miss.”

Belle had to smother the smile at the young woman’s airs. “Thank you, Ruby,” Belle replied, enjoying the look of pleasure on her face. “Now for the gown?”

Ruby nodded, hurrying to fetch the blue silk dress hanging by the window. It had been delivered that afternoon just in time for the Duke of Carroll’s ball. Belle had not yet a chance to try it on, but Ruby was nearly as excited as she was.

Belle stood and raised her arms over her head so the girl could drop the dress over her head. It fluttered down around her, like a cloud descending. “Oooh, miss!” Ruby said with a sigh of utter enchantment. “You look splendid!”

While Ruby started to hook hooks and tie tapes behind her, Belle stroked the skirt. Her future did not hold too many balls, this would likely be the only time she would ever wear this; the thought made her sad.

When Ruby had finished doing her up, Belle did not recognize the woman in the mirror. The shimmering hues of the silk made her complexion glow and her eyes were set like two sapphires. But the dress did not stop there, it clung to her waist, so small with the stays that Belle could barely wonder how she was breathing and then fell over her hips. The only thing that made Belle pause was the depth of the decolletage but judging by her companion’s expression, she looked every inch a lady.

“Oh!” the girl exclaimed as if remembering something. “HIs lordship sent this!”

She fetched a velvet-covered box and opened it to reveal a triple rope of pearls. Without waiting for Belle’s sputters to make sense, Ruby lifted it around Belle’s neck, the pearls cool to the touch as they settled against her skin. The white flowers that the Ruby had insisted upon weaving through Belle’s hair now made much more sense but the pearls helped her feel anchored and safe. Her fingers touched one stone after the other.

She turned away from her reflection to take Ruby’s hand in her own. “Thank you. You’ve managed to turn an ugly duckling into a swan.”

“Now, miss,” Ruby protested just as the clock struck nine. The maid quickly collected herself. She draped a shawl around Belle’s shoulders, then shooed her out into the hall and down the stairs.

Gold was waiting in the hall below. He wore his traditional black but tonight it was offset by a white shirt and waistcoat. He glanced up as he heard her descending the stairs and a desire erupted across his face.

A strange, intoxicating feeling shivered through Belle. He hadn’t even touched her and she was a puddle of need. He had just shaved and the scent of pine floated back to her in the short distance between them. “You look dashing, my lord.”

“I am enchanted,” he said as he captured her palm to deposit a quick kiss. It sent lightning up her spine and she stepped closer, hoping against hope that he might take her in his arms.

“It’s time we were going,” he said with an apologetic shake of his head. “I don’t...I don’t want to miss Lord Jones.”

“Of course,” Belle said as Avonlea returned with full force. He offered his arm in way of an apology and they went out to the waiting carriage. As they settled inside, Belle asked, “ Why did Lord Anders say this wasn’t a suitable ball for me?”

He took her hand in his, reluctant to let it go, and stroked circles into her palm as the carriage set out. “Few families would let their unmarried daughters attend. Jefferson’s entertainments are considered...fast. He enjoys shocking people.”

Belle could only wonder what she was in store for as they pulled into the long line of carriages waiting to enter the Carroll House drive.

Gold did not let go of her hand.


	15. Chapter 15

They entered the short receiving line, Gold mumbling in annoyance even though the line was moving relatively quickly. “Have you seen the duke yet?” Belle asked, correctly guessing what was the root of his frustration.

“I paid a call, but he wasn’t in, so I left a card.” Gold had the air of an annoyed man about town but Belle could tell he was excited to see his friend. “Jefferson, true to form, sent back a note demanding I attend this ball.”

Belle was not sure they would be able to do much except say hello to each other. “Is it true that a London ball has to be a great crush to be considered fashionable?”

He eyed her with a knowing grin. “Who told you that?”

Belle was not about to admit her maid had told her so she simply arched her brow at him. “Well?”

“Jefferson doesn’t follow fashion, he sets it. He’s not one for crowds, so his gatherings tend to be more intimate. Exclusive even.”

“Well, if one can’t invite the unmarried ladies of the season…”

“Believe me, Jefferson has no interest in ladies.” At her look, he clarified. “He fell in love once- head over heels. Mad as a hatter right when he moved to London after Oxford.”

“What happened to her?” Belle asked as they stepped closer to where Jefferson was greeting his guests.

Gold shrugged. “I suppose a betrayal. All love ends in some tragedy.”

Belle snorted. “That is, without a doubt, the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my life.”

“Is it? My experience says otherwise.”

Belle realized the moment of teasing had passed. She turned back up to him to find him staring at a spot in the distance, steadily ignoring her. Belle gently took his hand in hers but he did not grip it or so much as acknowledge her touch. “David and Mary Margaret Nolan truly love each other as does Regina and her Daniel. Do you think Daniel thinks Regina betrayed him when she was forced to marry?”

He sputtered. “Of course not-”

“Or that if David perished in the mines tomorrow Mary Margaret would think he had left her alone because he wanted to?”

“Belle-”

“Some people may claim love when their real motives are something selfish. If you don’t believe in love, then this world is an awfully dark place.”

His hands tightened on her’s. “I used to think so,” he said slowly as his eyes drifted back to her upturned face. “Perhaps love is a talent or a stroke of luck.”

“Maybe,” Belle agreed. The pair ahead of them moved up, leaving them with less than a minute. There was something delicate about the moment stretching between them and Belle did not want to risk it getting filled up with something toxic or uncertain. “Friendship is a type of love,” she offered, gesturing to where Jefferson was standing just out of sight.

“I suppose so,” he murmured in response. “But the stakes are much lower, and thus it is much safer.”

They reached the head of the receiving line and Belle got a proper look at the Lord of Carroll. He was tall, handsome and dark with eyes that looked as if he had just awoken from a sinful dream. The lady nearest him was sizing him up as if measuring him to see if he would fit in her bed.

The previous guests moved on and the duke turned to them. At the sight of Gold, his face lit up like a child’s. “Robert! I’m glad you were made it!” He pumped their hands with such enthusiasm Gold shook with it. “Won’t have much time to talk tonight but you’ll join me for tea at White’s tomorrow.”

Gold disengaged long enough to draw Belle up to the Duke. “Jefferson, this is my friend, Miss French.”

Better understanding Gold’s definition of friendship, Belle smiled. “It’s a pleasure, Your Grace.”

Jefferson bowed elegantly. “The pleasure is mine, Miss French.” There was a mixture of curiosity and appreciation in his eyes as he straightened.

“We’re holding up the line,” Gold said to them both. “If we don’t get a chance to speak, I’ll see you at White’s tomorrow.”

Gold took Belle’s arm and led her into the enormous entry hall, and turned left into the ballroom. Belle faltered as they stepped through an archway of flowers into a large ballroom where a dance was just ending.

“Oh” was all she could say. The wall and ceiling had been painted black, absorbing the light from the grand chandeliers and giving the room a mysterious, shadowy atmosphere. The only stroke of white was well-lit marble statues that stood on pedestals around the edges of the room- life-sized females clad in wispy classical drapes that illustrated large parts of their bodies.

Belle was about to make a quip about Romans when one of the statues changed positions. “Oh!” she repeated as she gripped Gold’s arm in both hands. “They’re alive!”

“Jefferson likes to be memorable,” Gold said as musicians in the gallery struck up a new tune. Dance sets started forming, men and women lining up opposite to one another. Belle tapped her foot the music. Gold, as always, missed nothing. “Would you like to dance?”

“I don’t know how,” Belle confessed, feeling slightly self-conscious.

“This is a rather simple country dance,” he said, instead of teasing her. “Watch this one and we’ll dance the next time another one is played.”

Belle watched the dancers with eagle-eyed fascination. When the next song started, it was indeed another country dance and Gold led her to the floor. It was delightful fun, and while she tripped once, Gold was close enough to catch her.

The next dance was a waltz, and they retreated to the side. Safely out of the way of the gliding couples, Belle settled in to watch the infamous dance with some selfish interest. Gold leaned in close, “What are you thinking so earnestly?”

Releasing the tension in her face, Belle confessed, “I was hoping to learn it by watching but it seems more instinctive than instructive.”

“How so?”

Belle pointed at one couple nearby. The woman had a pained expression on her face as she tilted her face pointedly away from her companion. They were moving jerkily around the floor, an utter contrast to the next couple pointed out. The gentleman was flush with his partner as he twirled her around the floor, her skirts almost floating around her.

“I’ll arrange for a dancing master to come by the house this week,” Gold decided. “I can’t have you making one of your faces while I whirl you around the dancefloor.”

Torn between anticipation at such an intimate encounter and nervousness that she would never be able to learn such a graceful dance, Belle merely nodded as if she was half-listening.

“Good evening, Miss French.” The Lord of Anders arrived at their side as if he had been there since the waltz began. “Robert, I just saw Jones headed for the card room.” He nodded in the general direction. “I’ll stay with Miss French if you’d like to see if you can catch-”

Gold did not wait for Victor to finish his sentence, disappearing into the crowd.

“I’m sorry you have to play chaperone, Lord Anders,” Belle said as the living statues shifted invitingly. Most of the unattached men were in close proximity, thoroughly enjoying the entertainment at hand.

He shook his head. “It’s a pleasure to spend time with a woman such as yourself. I’m afraid I don't’ meet too many females in London able to discuss the latest political climate or the modernization of medieval agriculture in the outlying country.”

Belle smiled at the mention of the two more passionate dinner conversations they had shared over the week. “It is nice to have friends who can carry a conversation instead of just a glass,” Belle said as someone tripped by with their teeming punch glass.

“Then, you shall have to call me Victor, as my friends do.”

“Only if you call me Belle.”

“With pleasure,” he said as he offered her his arm. “Now that are officially friends, perhaps we might find a glass of punch so we could continue our conversation unparched?”

It was rather warm in the ballroom, so Belle tucked her hand into his elbow. They made their way across the floor to an alcove where punch cascaded into a crystal pool. Anders held a glass under the stream for Belle, so as not to risk her splattering her dress and then filled one for himself. “How are you enjoying your first ball?”

“It’s marvelous,” Belle said as a couple nearby broke out into giggles of rapture. Victor stepped neatly between her and them and began to lead her away from whatever rendezvous was about to occur. Belle had to resist turning her head back to see. “I’m afraid I don’t belong,” she confessed as they crossed back to a safer standing area.

“Why do you say that?” Victor asked. “You look completely at home.”

“I’m a schoolmistress from Wales dressed as a lady in a risque ball accompanied by the Demon Earl of Avonlea,” Belle pointed out as she raised the glass to her lips. “Everything is alien. Back home...this...London is a concept, not a reality.”

Victor shook his head. “I told Robert I did not approve of this...arrangement between the two of you. He has always been a complicated man but after what happened four years ago...God knows.”

Belle certainly didn’t and to hear one of his oldest and dearest friends confess neither did he made her feel adrift in the large, noisy ballroom. She cast a look out to see if Gold was nearby but he must have found the card room for he was nowhere in sight.

“Lord Gold and I have come to an understanding,” Belle settled upon saying. “I came to him for help and I...may have been persistent enough that I dug my own grave.”

Victor shook his head. “Since I’ve known him, he’s been determined to be self-sufficient. I thought marriage might show him that it is okay to open yourself up to others but my hopes were mislaid.” His eyes cut to her. “He does need someone. Someone patient despite his moods.”

His implication was clear, but she had thrown herself at Gold and he had kept her at arm’s length. “He needs a friend,” she agreed. “A confident, a support pillar. Someone to steady him. I’m intent on driving him, challenging him to be the lord Avonlea needs. And I’m hardly patient,” she added in case Victor missed her point.

“I never said he didn’t need all of those things,” was all Victor said. “In fact, I think you know what he needs better than I do myself.”


	16. Chapter 16

By the time Gold reached the card room through the crush of the ball, Killian Jones was nowhere in sight, if he had even been there at all. Gold asked several men leaving the room if they’d seen Lord Jones, but no one seemed certain. Judging by the smell of brandy and perfume radiating off them, they had not been too aware of anything in hours.

When it was clear there was no use in standing there any longer, Gold went back to find Belle and Victor. He had been enjoying introducing Belle to her first ball, and he did not want to linger over anything other than her when she was wearing that blue silk dress.

As he passed through the entry hall, a man covered with travel dust was admitted. It was a surprising enough sight that Gold paused as the man hurried over to the Duke of Carroll, who was still stuck receiving latecomers. The man cut the line to convey his message, and before he had finished speaking, Jefferson gave a shout and raced up the stairs.

Gold contemplated going after him, but Jefferson was known for his flights of fancy so Gold returned to the ballroom where a quadrille was just finishing. After a moment, he spotted Victor leaning down to whisper something in Belle’s ears and her laughing response made his own lips tug upwards. He watched them for a moment, enjoying the sight of their shared amusement and feeling for the first time in years something akin to contentment.

When Gold moved to join them, the music stopped in the middle of a measure. As the crush turned as one to the gallery where the small orchestra was playing, Jefferson’s voice boomed out to them all, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I apologize to halt the evening's festivities but I think you will forgive me. I’ve just received word that Napoleon has abdicated. The war is officially over!”

At first, there was a silence as the entire gathering processed this unexpected, joyous, long anticipated news. Then someone began to cheer and more and more people joined in until the entire rafters rattled with pure relieved joy.

Gold was not about to cheer in public, but he was as thrilled as the rest of them. The war had been a shadow over him- over England- for as long as he could remember. He pushed his way toward Belle, thinking of nothing but experiencing this with her, this would be something they would all remember for the rest of their lives, where they were, and who they were with when they received news that the war was over.

Belle was practically jumping up and down in place as she scanned the crowd. Gold’s heart clenched as he realized she was searching for him. Right as her bright eyes swung to him, Victor stepped between them, the usually calm man grinning ear to ear. “We’ve done it!” he exclaimed as he wrung Gold’s hand.

Belle pushed Victor out bodily out of the way to fling her arms around Gold and forgetting themselves both entirely, they kissed as if they were utterly alone.

Similar scenes of exaltation surrounded them. Jefferson led a cheer for Wellington, then for the troops. Gold glanced up at the musicians’ gallery again and stiffened. Belle noticed and dropped her arms, turning to see what had caught his attention. “That’s Jones up there talking to Jefferson,” he pointed out.

“So it is,” Victor said as he turned to check. “Probably wanted to learn if Jefferson has any additional details. God knows that Jones has paid a higher price for victory than most.”

Belle was not certain what they meant by that. Gold tugged on her hand to lead her through the rapturous crowd. Victor followed right behind them. They climbed the entry hall staircase, then turned into a long, dimly lit corridor that paralleled the upper wall of the two-story ballroom.

At the far end of the corridor, the Duke and a tall, rangy man emerged from a door that led to the musicians’ gallery. Behind them, the orchestra stuck up a triumphal march which grew muted as the door swung closed behind them.

As the Duke and Lord Jones came down the corridor, talking earnestly, Belle got her first proper look at Vice Admiral Lord Killian Jones. He was thin, almost to gauntness, but the strong bones of his face were still unmistakably handsome and he moved with an athlete's grace. However, it was the metal hook dangling from his left arm that made her pull at Gold’s hand.

Up ahead Lord Jones froze as he spotted them. “Trust you to be here to ruin even this for me, Lonsdale,” he spat. Jefferson laid his hand on Jones’ shoulder but he waved it off. “Under the circumstances, I’ll forget what I swore I’d do if I ever saw you again but get the hell out of my sight before I change my mind.

Victor stepped up to stand on her other side but did not acknowledge his old friend’s abrupt change of heart. Gold hesitated for a moment before he said,” That’s an odd greeting. Shall we try again?” he stepped forward and offered his hand so Jones could reach out with his lone hand. “It’s been too long, Jones. I’m glad to see you back from the war.”

The other man bared his teeth. “Do you think I’m in jest?”

The duke cut in. “Perhaps my study would a better pace than the hall?” By sheer force of will, Jefferson herded Jones into a room just down the corridor. As the two strode past the three of them, Gold opened his mouth as if to speak but Victor shook his head and followed after the two to the study. Gold lingered, uncertain for a moment before he glanced down at Belle. His face tightened in resolve, and they joined the others.

The vice admiral had withdrawn behind the duke’s desk. He was saying, “This is not your concern, Jefferson. Nor yours, Victor.”

In the smaller space, Belle removed herself from Gold’s side. Jefferson was lighting lamps and Victor stood beside the door, the silent sentry. The room felt much too stifled as the various emotions of the four men swirled over Belle.

Jone’s eyes were piercing pale blue; he looked like a predator kept at bay as he sized up Gold who had settled upon the couch, refusing to rise to the bait. “You should have had the decency to stay away,” Jones spat when Gold did not speak first.

Gold waved a hand. “Would you mind catching me up on exactly what you think I’ve done, Jones?”

“Don’t try that on me,” Jones spat. “Your golden tongue will not get you out of this one, Lonsdale.”

Jefferson started to say something but Gold held up his hand to stop him. “Forget my alleged wrongdoing for a moment, Jones. I had planned to speak with you about a business matter. “

“A business matter?”

“Your mine in Avonlea,” Gold affirmed. “Your manager is not only endangering your workers but possibly skimming profits as well. I was not aware you had relisted and thought perhaps if you no longer have the time or inclination to deal with it yourself, you might sell the company back to me so I can do what is needed.”

The vice admiral chuckled, a cold, humorless sound that sent a chill down Belle’s spine. There was often talk about what happened to the men who came back from the war, different than they had been before. Belle had not known Killian Jones before the war but she could say with some certainty now that this man was not all there.

“If Gaston is irritating you, I should raise his salary.”

Infuriated by this attitude, Belle stepped forward, but Victor caught her arm. Gold and Jones remained unaware, focused utterly on each other. Gold’s voice remained calm and steady. “Don’t turn the mine into a bone between us, Jones. The men who live are at risk are innocent of whatever grudge you are harboring against me.”

“Mining has always been dangerous, and it always will be. Miners know and accept that.”

“There is a difference between courage and blind faith,” Gold replied. “I've Inquired about accidents and deaths at similar mines and found the Avonlea pit is four or five times more dangerous than any others. There is every indication of a pending major catastrophe.”

“And how do you know that?” Jones challenged. “You barely knew a thing about the mine when it was your father’s.”

“Because I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

Jones’ pale eyes narrowed. “You’ve been in my mine?”

“Gentlemen” Jefferson tried.

“Keep the hell out of there,” Jones said over him before he turned back to Gold. “If I hear you’ve trespassed, I’ll have Gaston set the law on you.”

“If you don’t believe what I’m telling you, investigate yourself. You were never an officer who enjoyed seeing his own slaughtered. This is no different. Those men rely on the mine for their livelihoods. You’re the only one in a position to make change quickly, so damn it, live up to your responsibilities.”

Jones’ face twisted. “I’d rather spite than oblige you, Lonsdale.”

“I own that land, Jones,” Gold stated calmly. “If you refuse to improve conditions, I’ll find a way to break the lease. I prefer not to get the law involved as conditions need to be improved now, not a year or two later after the courts have decided who is in the right -but I will if I have to.” Gold’s voice hardened as he stood up. “But if a single man dies in that mine while you sit and sulk, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”

Jones pulled crumpled gloves from his pocket and stepped around the desk. Before anyone realized what he had in mind, he slapped the gloves across Gold’s face. “I will not have you dictate morality to me. Name your seconds, Lonsdale.”

The distant sounds of revelry were audible in the shocked silence. Gold’s cheek reddened from the force of the blow, but he did not retaliate. “I won’t fight a lunatic.” He turned. “Come, Belle. It’s time to go.” He took her arm and led her to the door. Jefferson and Victor remained utterly silent, their faces impassive.

As Gold raised his hand to the knob, Lord Jones snarled, “Coward!”

Gold paused before he turned back. “I won’t fight you, Jones. If you want to kill me, you’ll have to make it cold-blooded murder.”

The pale blue eyes were burning so brightly they were nearly white. “I’d rather kill you fairly. But mark my words, I will kill you.” The pale blue eyes fell on Belle and she tensed, knowing what was coming next. “Does your whore know you killed your father and your own wife?”

Both Jefferson and Victor began to speak at once but Gold lifted a hand and they both fell silent. “Miss French is a lady, something you are obviously incapable of recognizing.” His voice was not the even, in control cadence of just moments ago but rougher as if his temper was dangerously close to the edge. “If you want to fight, so be it.”

Jones’ expression was twisted into triumphant gloating. “Any time, any place, any weapon.”

“Now,” Gold said flatly. “Here.” His eyes flickered down to the hook gleaming at Jones’ side. “Rapiers. If you can still hold one.”

The vice admiral’s face turned a dull red. “Don’t mock me, Lonsdale”

“Those are my terms. Take it or leave it.” Gold’s smile was edged in ice.

“Very well,” Jones growled.

Belle was on the verge of pleading with them all to stop when Jefferson shook his head. “This has gone far enough,” he declared to Belle’s relief. ”You're both mad, and that’s saying something coming from me.”

Jefferson turned to Victor. He regarded his two friends for a moment before he shook his head. “If Jones is intent on violence, it’s best it took place here with both of us present.”

Gold nodded in satisfaction. “Will you act for me, Victor?”

The pale blonde nodded just as Killian warned, “I have no quarrel with you, Anders, but if you stand with him, you are just as much my enemy as he is.”

This did not sway Victor. “The duty of a second is to try and resolve the dispute without bloodshed. You can start by telling me what your complaint is so Gold has a chance to answer it.”

Jones bared his teeth. “I will not speak of what happened. Gold knows, whether he admits it or not.” Jones turned to Jefferson who was looking distinctively put out. “Will you act for me or are you also going to side with that lying crocodile?”

Jefferson muttered, “Highly irregular to have an affair of honor where a man doesn’t know why he has been challenged…”

“Yes or no, Jefferson?”

The Duke sighed. “Very well. Just so as your second, I can ask if there is anything Gold can do- an apology, some other way of addressing your grievance- that will resolve the dispute.”

“What he did can never be rectified.”

Jefferson threw his hands up. “Very well. The garden behind the folly should be suitable.” It was too cool for guests to be in the shrubbery and the location would be far away from prying eyes.

Jones led the way out of the study, and Jefferson had to hurry to catch up as they headed toward the back of the house. Belle followed after them, uncertain and feeling sick to her stomach. Victor frowned. “You shouldn't come, Belle. A duel is no place for a woman.’

Belle scowled at him. “I doubt my presence can make anything worse.”

Besides, this was her fault. If something happened to Gold-

Gold, in fact, was the least rattled of all of them but something in the way the Vice Admiral prowed down the corridor set off warning bells in her head. He was a man possessed and if he didn’t manage to kill Gold in this duel, he did not seem to mind finding another way to attain his goal.

They went down a narrow back staircase, then outside. Belle shivered as she stepped into the cold spring night. Without a word, Gold took off his coat and dropped it around her shoulders. She pulled the warm wool around her, wondering how they had gone from learning to dance to a duel in less than an hour.

The garden was enormous for a London house, and at the far end of it the ball was almost inaudible. Behind the folly was a small courtyard intended for summer dancing. Torch holders stood around the area and the seconds proceeded to light and set an armful of torches brought from the stable. The wind whipped at the flames, causing shadows to flare wildly across the garden.

The vice admiral seemed calmer now that action was at hand. Like Gold, he stripped off his coat and cravat. Belle could not help but watch him adjust the cuff of the hook on his left arm. The lack of a hand did not seem to bother him.

Once the field was prepared, the seconds stood to the side. “Stand back to back, walk eight paces each when I tell you to start, then turn. I’ll drop my handkerchief, and when it strikes the ground,” he shrugged. “Do what you will.”

Victor stepped up, his eyes on the vice admiral. “The duel is over at first blood.”

Gold nodded but his opponent did not deign to reply.

Belle lingered at the edge of the courtyard where Gold had left her. She felt powerless, trying not to think of what could happen and failing miserably. Rapiers were lethal. She doubted Gold meant to hurt his opponent, but Jones looked hungry for blood.

In an eerie tableau, the duelists went through the required ritual, standing back to back, then pacing out the steps after the duke called “Now!”

When the two men had turned to confront each other, Jefferson raised his handkerchief, then threw it down. Not noticing the handkerchief had not yet landed or perhaps not caring, Lord Jones struck. In seconds, he had crossed the span between them and thrown his left elbow. Gold raised his left arm to protect his face and staggered backward as Jones’ full weight came crashing against his immobile self.

Gold threw out a hand to catch himself on the ground. He managed it, rolling as Jones’ boot came down where his neck had been moments ago, but when he got back to his feet, there was crimson staining his sleeve.

“That doesn’t count as first blood, Lonsdale,” the vice admiral warned him.

“You always were one to flout the rules,” Gold muttered as he lashed out with the rapier. There was a clang as his rapier met Jones’ hook. The vice admiral moves to the left so the sword slid off instead of coming down to tip his shoulder. Both reeled away from each other, circling as they both regained their breath.

Jones struck, his rapier coming up to slash at Gold’s neck. Gold leaned away but a ragged slit appeared across his chest. It was too dark to see if blood had been drawn but Jefferson deemed it to be likely. He stepped forward to announce, “Enough!” but Jones pressed his luck. He struck again, landing a vicious slash on Gold’s shoulder.

Belle pressed a fist to her mouth to stop from crying out, terrified of what might happen if she distracted Gold from this deadly dance. She had seen fights between schoolboys and drunks, but nothing like this ritualistic savagery.

“I’ve waited years for this, you bastard,” Jones hissed as he looked for his next opening.

Gold stepped forward to meet Jones’ downward thrust, parrying it so the two blades clashed together, sliding up so that both men were leaning against each other, the swords wavering above them. “You can wait a little longer,” Gold managed through gritted teeth before he heaved his elbow against Jones’ left side. The hook trembled and slashed where Gold had been standing moments ago but Jones nearly lost his sword.

Rather than strike immediately, Gold retreated, his rapier raised and ready. Jones fell back into the same stance and they returned to circling each other, smooth, gliding movements that did not fit with the fierce concentrations on their faces.

Even in the uncertain light of the torches, there was no confusing the two men. Jones was taller, aggressive and determined to kill the man in front of him. There was blood on both men now, but no one called for the duel to be over. Belle wanted to demand Jefferson and Victor to put an end to it, but she had a feeling they knew to end it now was to court further disaster.

Gold evaded another slash. Jones snarled. “You’ve always been good at running away, Lonsdale.”

“I am not ashamed to know when to fight and when to live to see another day, Jones,” Gold said with a snap of his wrist, his rapier met Jones’ thrust, sliding it to the ground.

“Good, it will make this easier,” Jones panted as he unleashed a wild assault, flailing his sword right, left, down, back up and to the left, and Gold had to meet each one, no rhyme or reason to the usually graceful art of fencing.

Gold continued to retreat under Jones’ advances. Belle wanted to shout for him to fight back as Jones lunged forward, putting all weight on his left foot. It was the moment Gold had been waiting for. He struck out with lethal precision, knocking the blade clear out of Jones’s extended hand and leaving the man with just a hook in defense.

Jones snarled, raising the hook to slash it across Gold’s throat but Gold raised the hilt of the rapier and brought it down upon Jones’ exposed head. The vice admiral fell hard, his head cracking audibly against the flagstones.

And just like that, it was over. Lord Jones lay still as death in frozen silence, the only sound Gold’s labored breathing. Belle dashed over to the courtyard, kneeling down by the fallen man. She had tended her fair share of schoolyard injuries so she quickly examined his bleeding head.

Gold dropped down beside her. Up close, she could see his shirt was in ribbons. Blood ran from at least a dozen slashes, but all of them appeared mostly superficial. He was not favoring any of them, his entire focus on the man in Belle’s lap. “Is he…”

Belle didn’t answer until she checked Jones’ pulse and breathing. Satisfied, she checked where the hilt had hit him as well as the where he had hit the ground. “Concussion,” she decided. “I don’t think his head is fractured...head wounds always bleed badly, so they look worse then they are. Does anyone have a -”

Jefferson thrust an elegantly embroidered on into her hand. She pressed it against the wound on his head and it turned crimson immediately.

“I wanted to disorient him, not kill him,” Gold told Victor.

The Lord of Anders shook his head. “Don’t blame yourself. He forced the quarrel on you and he meant to kill you.”

“It was stupid of me to myself be drawn into any kind of fight,” Gold said, and the anger in his voice startled Belle. “He won’t accept this as a final resolution.”

The answering silence was loud in Belle’s ears. She lifted the now saturated handkerchief free, and Victor handed her another one, this time with the Anders crest on it. The bleeding was clotting so she used Gold’s cravat to tie a crude bandage around Jones’ skull. “He shouldn’t be moved far,” she said with a look around the courtyard. “Can he stay here, Your Grace?”

Despite someone nearly dying, the duke had a smile on his face, mostly in relief that no one had been seriously hurt. There was admiration in his eyes as he insisted, “Call me Jefferson.”

“Now that everyone is on a first name basis,” Gold grumbled as he got back to his feet. He held out his hand and Belle stood as well. “Victor, do you think the two of you can get him indoors? I don’t think we want to alert any servants to this.”

“We can manage,” Jefferson said. “He weighs two stones less than he ought.” As the two men gently raised their friend from the flagstone, his own ripped shirt fell away, exposing a network of scars that ran from his left shoulder to his waist. They all paused, shaken. “He was wounded by shrapnel at the evacuation of La Romana,” Jefferson explained quietly as Gold lifted the arm ending in a hook to rest across Jones’ chest. “He was lucky not to lose the whole arm.”

As they collected the swords and followed the others into the house, Belle’s relief that Gold was walking beside her was muted by the fear that Gold was right; tonight’s duel would not satisfy Lord Killian’s fury.


	17. Chapter 17

Gold refused treatment for his injuries. He did accept a cloak from Jefferson, since putting on his own immaculately tailored coat was out of the question. He was still bleeding freely and wincing when he thought no one was looking. The ball continued, no one the wiser that their host had disappeared so no one noticed when Belle and Gold’s coach lurched away back home.

They did not speak as they traveled through the streets of Mayfair. Gold balanced on the front edge of the seat of the carriage instead of leaning on his back. Belle suspected he had scraped it rather badly in his fall, if not bruised it to the point of utter discomfort. He helped her down from the carriage when they arrived at Ashkam House but moved stiffly up the steps.

“Before you go to bed,” Belle announced as they arrived inside,” I want to clean and treat those cuts. I know you will insist you are fine, but those need tending.” He nodded begrudgingly, teasing out a stressed smile from Belle. “I’ll meet you in your rooms after I change out of this gown. I need to see if Ruby can fetch the medical supplies.”

Ruby had fallen asleep in Belle’s room, but woke quickly and helped Belle to undress before she went off for the supplies. Belle was relieved that Gold was not abed like Killian Jones, but also physically tired and emotionally exhausted from the events of the evening.

Her blue silk gown was ruined. It was coated in blood and stained with grass and dirt. Belle lingered over it for a moment, mourning it as a fallen companion before she donned her white nightgown. She threw on a red velvet robe as the chill of the spring air was still sharp in the hallways of the house. She took the time to brush out her hair as she waited for Ruby, braiding it in a loose plait.

When Ruby returned with a tray containing bandages, medications and a basin of warm water, Belle sent the girl to bed and went down the hall to Gold’s bedchamber. The door was ajar so she pushed it open and went in without knocking.

Gold was adding coals to the fire, completely naked. Belle nearly dropped the tray until she noticed there was, in fact, a towel wrapped around his hips. He finished fixing the fire, setting the screen in place before standing stiffly. “Care for some brandy?” he asked as he moved to the table where a goblet was waiting.

Unable to tear her gaze from the lines of his muscles, each and every one of them on display in the firelight, Belle forgot to respond for a moment until her eyes adjusted and she could see the severity of his wounds. They had all started to clot, but there were more cuts than she had guessed. He must have stripped so she could treat the wounds, which steadied her. She nodded and Gold poured her a small amount of brandy. “It’s stronger than sherry,” he warned but Belle had already taken a long steading gulp and ended up coughing as the fire of the alcohol flooded her veins.

Gold grabbed the tray from her and set it down so he could hold her upright as the coughs racked her body. Belle tried to glare at him, but he was smiling at her in that fond, exasperated way he had when she was being difficult and she couldn’t help but be relieved he was here, standing beside her.

Once she had adjusted, she took another sip, and this time was able to appreciate the soothing afterglow of the liquor. “Alright, time to get to work. Sit on that stool, please.”

He obeyed without a word. She checked his legs but there were no injuries, everything seemed concentrated on his upper chest and back. Belle started by gently washing the lacerations with warm water, removing grit and cloth fragments. Gold kept his gaze over her shoulder, occasionally drinking his brandy. When he shifted to allow her better access, his muscles rippled and Belle would have been mesmerized if not for the tension radiating off him in waves as she worked.

“I expected the damage to be worse,” she confessed. “Most of these are fairly shallow.”

“Harder to hit a moving target,” he said with a shrug, which turned into a grimace. “I was the horror of every fencing instructor as I never did learn the finesse of the sport. I was more interested in getting out in one piece.”

“You? Making up your own rules?” Belle chuckled. “I can’t imagine.”

His own chuckle ghosted over the back of her neck as she bent to focus on his left forearm which was cut in several places from Killian’s hook. “You didn’t tell me about Lord Jones’ injury,” she said quietly.

“I didn’t know,” Gold said quietly. “Victor mentioned he had lost something in the war but I didn’t realize...”

Belle tried to change the subject as she cleaned dried blood from a gash on his wrist. “Odd that all the damage is in the same area.”

“He meant to cut my throat,” Gold said as he reached for the decanter to pour himself more brandy.

Belle sat back, appalled. “But-!”

“He said he wanted me dead, and Jones has always been a man of his word.”

Belle’s hands began to shake against Gold’s shoulder. He stood, guiding her to a nearby wing chair so she could bury her face in her hands, unable to stop visions of what could have happened. “He’s mad,” she decided upon, lifting her eyes to where Gold had sat back upon his stool rather than hover over her. “Why is he fixated on you? What did you do that was so unforgivable that he’d turn on his own friend?”

Gold watched her for a long pause. “You didn’t ask me if I did it.”

“Did what?”

“What Jones accused me of. Killing my wife and father.”

Belle shook her head. “He was trying to shock us. Their deaths were easy ammunition to antagonize you, to make Victor and Jefferson question if what they knew was real.”

Gold rose.”It’s never crossed your mind that I might be a murderer?”

Belle stood as well. “Of course I did. Four years ago, when the deaths occurred. But I’ve not seen you truly lose your temper since I’ve known you, I don’t see the demon everyone claims you to be.”

“I almost killed a man tonight,” Gold said as he retreated to the bed.

“In self-defense,” Belle reminded him sharply. He had barely looked at her since she had walked into his rooms and she was growing annoyed. She strode over to him. “You held back. You could have cut him to ribbons but you allowed yourself to be hurt, waiting for a chance to disable him.”

“As always, too clever by half,” he murmured as he drifted to the walnut dresser.

It was on the edge of her tongue to confess she was noticed everything about him, but the words scared her and so she bit them back. Deciding to finish her work so she could to her room and collapse into bed, Belle took a pot of herb salve over to where Gold stood by the dresser. She began to spread it over the minor wounds.

Gold inhaled sharply when she found a tender spot on his back but he didn’t wrench away. When she was finished, she collected the muslin and began to wind a strip around his chest. She looped the end of the bandage under his arm and tied a neat knot on top of his shoulder.

Gold stepped away, rolling his shoulders, testing his range as Belle began to stack her medical supplies back on her tray. Gold finished off the last of his brandy, then looked back at the decanter.

“Take some laudanum,” Belle suggested, guessing his motivations. “The effects will be milder than getting drunk.”

“I don’t need either,” he decided as he set his glass down. “Thank you for patching me up. I’m...I’m sorry your first ball ended like this.”

Belle shook her head. “Doesn’t every young lady’s first ball end in a duel?” she teased as she lifted the tray.

“Belle.”

She paused, turning back to find Gold’s face twisted. “What?” she said, quickly setting the tray down to hurry back to him. Her hands fluttered over her work, testing the bandages to make sure nothing was pinched, that she had not missed some grievous wound-

His hands clasped over her own. “Hold on a moment.”

Belle stilled as their eyes met for the first time since she had come into the room. The anguish in his eyes made her stomach drop, as she realized too late that his detachment had been a charade.

“I’ll stay,” Belle reassured him. Belle tried to avoid his injuries as she linked her arms around his waist and rested her head against his cheek. They stood that way for a long time, simply holding each other until Gold’s breathing steadied out.

“You’re probably exhausted,” he said as he stepped away. “I’ll walk you back to your rooms-”

“I said I’d stay,” Belle said, trying not to sound uncertain of her bold proposal. “And I meant it.”

Gold blinked down at her before relief washed over his face. He nodded and went off to his dressing room. Belle stayed there, standing in his rooms for a moment before she hurried to douse the lights. She slipped off the robe and got under the covers of the bed, which was warm.

She had never...she was not sure what exactly sharing a bed entailed but she knew they both needed this tonight. Gold was fragile and she did not dare leave him alone, afraid of who would come downstairs in the morning. She did not want to lose him now, over something like this.

He returned to the room wearing a nightshirt. “I hope I am not awakened by a pitcher of cold water,” he muttered as he crawled into bed beside her. Belle shifted so she pressed along him without putting pressure on any of his injuries and he curled into her, a child seeking warmth and protection.

Lying in the bed beside him, Belle made a silent vow: no matter what the future held, she would not become one of the people who would betray his friendship.


	18. Chapter 18

He woke first.

Belle slept beside him. Her mouth was parted ever so slightly and her eyes fluttered as she dreamed. Utterly innocent in her plaid nightgown, she was more enticing than any woman Gold had ever woken up next to.

In this phrase between sleep and wakefulness, Gold could indulge in the fantasy that she belonged here in this bed with him. If she was his, he could wake her with a kiss.

As it was, she was not his. She had stayed because he had needed someone, not out of desire or passion but out of kindness and compassion. He would not mar that gesture.

Except his hand was on her hip. He tried to pull it away but his hand drifted up to rest on the curve of her ribs, just under her breast and he could feel her heartbeat against his palm.

He snatched his hand away, just as Belle gave a sigh of contentment and snuggled closer.

It was this trusting gesture that doused his baser instincts. He worked his right arm out from under her head, sliding out from the bed. His body protested, the wounds from last night’s duel still fresh and if possible even more painful.

Sensing he was gone, Belle’s eyes fluttered open. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered but she was already sitting up, blankets tangled about her. His gaze was drawn to the triangle of bare skin at the throat of her nightgown, and he was very glad he was wearing the bilious nightshirt which hid his own morning state.

“Are we headed home soon?” she asked, seemingly out of the blue.

He paused, a frown furrowing his brow. “Do you not like London?”

“No!” Belle said, rising to her knees. “I mean yes, It’s been delightful but there’s so much still to be done in Avonlea-”

“And you want to get me out of Jones’ line of fire?” Gold guessed.

Belle sighed. “There’s that,” she admitted. “I just feel as if it’s time to return to what’s important.”

He nodded. “Most of my business should be settled within the next few days, then we can go.’

She looked pleased as she scooted off the bed. “I should get back to my room.”

Gold picked up her robe and brought it over to her just as she turned to look for it. They ended up standing inches apart from each other.

She still was half asleep, eyes hooded and soft as her gaze dropped to his lips. She took a step forward, face tiling upwards and Gold gave up the ghost. He bent his head to kiss her. He meant for it to be a quick kiss, a thank you for staying with him but the kiss went on and on until they could not breathe.

Belle ended up pressed against the wall, her hands fisting his nightshirt as he leaned against the wall with one arm, his other hand plunged into her hair. He was dimly aware he had dropped the robe at their feet but as her hips began to move against his, Gold groaned as he pulled back.

She was too tempting, too guileless. She would let him ruin her but he could not live with that. She deserved more than a broken, ruined man who had long ago given up. So, instead, he swallowed hard as he retreated a safe distance away. “Thank you for staying, Belle,” he said, with an indication of the bed behind them.

She tried to smile but failed miserably. “That’s what friends are for,” she told him before she slipped out in the hallway.

He gazed at the closed door for a long time. He knew he had hurt her just now...she saw it as rejection but he was simply trying...he wanted to do the right thing. He had never expected the irritating woman who had come to Ashkam to bully him into saving Avonlea would ever accept his proposal to come stay with him much less become his friend but...here they were.

And though some beastly instincts demanded more...Gold was content to have just that, a friend in Belle French.

At least that’s what he told himself.

\--

Jefferson had not yet arrived at White’s, unsurprising as the man was late to everything. Gold settled in the reading room to peruse today’s copy of The Times. Every article was about Napoleon’s abdication, British courage under fire, and the start of a new era.

Caught up, he did not hear Jefferson approach until his friend clapped a hand to Gold’s shoulder in greeting. Gold hissed and the duke snatched his hand away exclaiming, “Sorry! Sorry! I forgot!”

“You forgot?” Gold drawled. “How fortunate for you.’

Jefferson held up his hands. “If you’re going to snipe at me, at least have the kindness to do so in the coffee room. I missed breakfast.”

Gold was tempted to be petty, his mood having soured significantly since Belle had left his rooms this morning but he nodded and followed Jefferson to the coffee room. Unable to resist, he said, “After the events of last evening, I wasn’t sure you would keep our engagement.”

“Don’t be daft,” Jefferson said as he tipped his hat to someone walking by. “It was just a little duel. Happens all the time.”

There were cold meats and other dishes set up on a sideboard in the coffee room. There were few people here this early, so they were able to secure a quiet corner where they could converse without anyone overhearing.

“How is Jones this morning?” Gold broached as a waiter materialized with a bottle of hock.

Jefferson accepted the bottle and the waiter withdrew. “He’s concussed but otherwise fine. Victor had a look at him when we got up to the study and confirmed Belle’s diagnosis.” Jefferson’s focus shifted from his plate back up to Gold. “I rather liked your Ms. French.”

Gold was not in the mood to discuss Belle, there was too much uncertainty there. He was afraid of what he might confess in the safety of White’s and in the company of one of his oldest friends so he avoided the unspoken question. “You spoke with Jones?”

Jefferson hesitated. “I called upon him this morning, he was civil but...He didn’t refer to the duel at all.”

“Did you mention me?”

Jefferson hesitated before nodding. “He didn’t have anything else to say after that.”

Gold nodded, retreating to his own thoughts as Jefferson laid waste to his breakfast. Jones had always been quick-tempered, and true Lord Jones had a tendency to react unreasonably when impassioned but they had known each other for most of their lives.

“Do you think he plans to seek you out?” Jefferson said quietly, guessing Gold’s train of thought.

Gold shook his head. “I plan to leave London within the fortnight. Give him time to cool down.”

“Four years of war can change a man,” Jefferson said quietly.

“Jones is dangerous but he was never foolish,” Gold said firmly. “A duel is one thing; murder is another.” Jefferson topped off their glasses with hock. “What will he do now that the war is over?”

Jefferson shook his head. “I expect he’ll sell his commission. They never had any intention of letting a man in his condition back in the fleet, and he knew it. He only came to the fete last night to try and pressure some admirals into pulling some strings for him.” Jefferson shrugged.

Despite Jones’ illustrious naval history and medals of honor, a loss of a limb was a serious matter. Gold flexed his own left hand, wondering what it must have been like to survive such a loss.

The conversation moved from horses to politics and beyond. Jefferson was happy to fill Gold on the news and gossip from the last four years, never once asking any seeking questions in return. When the room began to get crowded for lunch, Gold reluctantly stood. “I have a meeting with my solicitor.”

The two men shook hands, but Jefferson held his hand a second longer than usual. “I know you aren't’ concerned with what Jones might do...but be careful.”

It was a sobering note to part especially from the usual affable Duke of Carroll.

\--  
Belle snapped her book shut and scowled at the door opposite her. It remained closed, the hallway outside empty. Unable to resist, she looked out the window once more but there was no sign of Gold to be seen.

She should be relieved. She had thrown herself at him this morning, too caught up to think rationally for a moment. He had nearly been killed, and Belle had only been thinking about the feeling of being in his arms-

Stupid, she castigated herself. Selfish.

It was clear that Gold needed a tether in this world. She had no idea what had really happened four years ago to drive him from Avonlea, but she found she didn’t care. She saw the man Gold hid from the rest of the world behind barbed words and bared teeth. He was good and kind and sensitive and she was utterly in love with him.

Oh.

Oh!

She was in love with him. How had that happened? Belle thumped her head down into her hands and let out a groan just as Ruby appeared in the doorway. “Ma’am? It’s time to change for dinner.”

Gold was always back in time for supper, so Belle let her maid usher her upstairs to clean her up for the otherwise quiet evening in. “I think the green dress tonight,’ Ruby said, taking in Belle’s distracted stare and occasional sighs.

Ruby took pains to arranged Belle’s hair to cascade down her back in a curled coiffure. Paired with the green dress with the neckline which was practically nonexistent, the mirror reflected a woman who was utterly alluring. Belle didn’t even recognize the woman as the same one who had spent all day fretting about every word and gesture she had made since coming to London.

“Do you not like it?” Ruby said as she hovered just outside the mirror’s edge. “I thought..perhaps...since you know…” The girl flushed. “Is it too much?”

Belle should have agreed, changed it to something more suitable but the phantom of Gold’s kiss still lingered on her lips and she found she very much wanted to experience that again. She wanted him to see her as a woman, not just as a friend, so she smiled tightly. “No, I don’t want to be late.”

Gold was already at the table when she came downstairs. He lifted tired eyes up to her, smiling in welcome before gesturing for her to take her seat. As dinner was served, he did not seem to notice anything amiss in her nightly attire, filling her in on his meeting with the solicitor and his breakfast with Jefferson.

When dinner finished, he suggested they adjourn to the library. “I’d like you to look at the Avonlea mining lease. We reviewed it this afternoon in the hopes we might find a way to break it but no such luck. Maybe you’ll see something we missed.”

He said this with such confidence in her that Belle’s heart swelled in her chest. They often discussed business, but this was the first time he had asked for her help and she was flattered. “I’d be happy to try.”

In the library, Belle sat down to study the lease. It was a simple document, straightforward and to the point which made it hard to find a loophole. After going over it a few times, Belle shook her head. “All it says is Lord Killian Jones or his assignees have the right to remove coal from the designated track for twenty-one years. Has the rent been paid on time?”

Gold nodded. “Five hundred pounds every May Day, never late.”

Belle considered, recalling their sojourn into the mines. “Do you think the mine shafts have extended beyond the limits of the leased land?”

Gold’s brow arched in interest. “I’ll have it looked into. Anything else?”

Belle shook her head. “That’s the only thing I think of.”

“Better than anything I or my solicitor came up with. By the way, I plan to visit Penrhyn to see how a large-scale quarry is run. If we rode up through central Wales, it would take two days each way. Do you think you can ride that far?”

Belle had never been to Penrhyn but she liked the idea of testing her own limits with a long ride through the country in the spring with Gold as her companion. So, she nodded.

Gold nodded back in approval. “Plan on going a week or so after we return to Ashkam.” He moved to sit back down with his papers, settling in for a long night of work.

Belle could have sat in her chair, curled up with a good book, but she was restless. Something pricking just beneath her skin. “How about a game of billiards before bed?” she suggested.

“Billiards?” Gold repeated, certain he had misheard her.

“Yes,” Belle said, miming a cue stroke. “It’s a game.”

“A game?” Gold mused. “Those are the things with stakes?”

“The very thing,” Belle agreed.

Gold wavered for a moment, glancing down at his papers but with one more glance over at her, he nodded. “Business can wait for another time,” he decided. “Shall we?”


	19. Chapter 19

They adjourned to the billiard room. As they walked, Belle looped her arm through his, as if it was perfectly natural. Here in London, it had become perfectly natural. “I must warn you,” she said as they turned down the hall. “ I’ve been practicing.”

“Oh?” he said, pleased that she had taken an interest in one of his favorite games. As they entered the room, he shucked off his dinner coat, which was too closely cut for play.

Belle’s eyes followed the movement and he noticed she glanced down at her own restrictive dinner wear. “Care to make it interesting?” Belle proposed as she leaned her hip against the billiard table.

“You’d fit right in down at White’s,” he said with an appreciative chuckle. Belle’s competitive nature was one of his favorite things about her, beside her intelligence and kindness and empathy- “What exactly did you have in mind?” he asked before he could delve too deeply into all the things he liked about Belle French. ” Fifty pounds a game?”

Belle shook her head. “Any money I have is money you provided,” she reminded him. “I may look a fine lady but everything I’m wearing is technically yours.”

“Everything you’re wearing is yours,” he countered. “You’ve more than earned it, keeping this place running while I’ve been seeing to business.”

A gleam came into Belle’s eyes that both intrigued and terrified him. She nodded to his jacket. “Then, if I lose, I will give you a piece of clothing.”

Standing there across from her with the smell of roses surrounding them, his mouth went dry. She did not waver or turn away. Encouraged perhaps by the late hour or how beautiful she looked in the firelight, he nodded. After last night, they were far past propriety.

“Ladies first,” Belle declared as she circled the table. She set up the balls as if she had done this all her life and took her first stroke before Gold could think better of all this.

He wasn’t sure he could think clearly. Not when Belle’s skirts raised as she bent to the table, displaying her ankles which led his eyes straight up to her rounded derriere. If he moved to the other side of the table he would be faced with her decolletage and pouty lips-

During this delicious torture, Belle potted all six of her blue balls once after another, winning the game before he even had a shot. She turned to him and nodded toward his polished Hessian boot. “That will do as a start,” she said, her tone taunting and teasing.

He knew if he shook his head, pointed out that they were courting madness, the night would be over. She would retreat, possibly for good this time. And he didn’t want to be a bad sport, not when she had been practicing. So he pulled off the boot and put it by the wall.

He figured if he won two games, she would lose her slippers and then if she won the last game, they would both be barefoot. Hardly an issue.

“You’re a natural,” he told her as he potted four of his own red balls. He missed the fifth when the ball hit a soft spot.

Belle grinned as she took her turn, once more sinking all six of her balls. Gold pulled off his other boot and set it by the first. “You’ve gotten rather good at this,” he said proudly, but his own competitive streak didn’t let it lie there. He set the balls up and started another game in his stocking feet. He knew he could win the next two games and they would both be equally barefoot.

Within six shots, Belle was kicking off one of her kidskin slippers. There was a flash of ankles as she put her stockinged foot down and God help him, she let out a happy little moan of relief as her foot encountered the lush carpet pile.

Gold had to snap his jaw shut as he set the balls up for the next game. He decided he would make sure her other slipper came off and then he’d let her win one more before they would call it a night.

What he did not expect was Belle potting all six of her balls and pointing to his cravat. He threw it to his boots and applied himself to the next game.

When the clock chimed eleven, Belle lost her other slipper. “It’ll be a pity to return back to that old warped table. Perhaps we can- What are you doing?”

Belle looked up at him in confusion. “Setting the table,” she answered as she grabbed the cue.

“But-”

Belle leaned down to take her shot. She missed it and with a grumble, handed the cue to him before retreating.

After that, it felt churlish to not play that game which was a close one. Finally Gold sank his last ball. He turned, proud, only to stop dead at the sight of Belle’s leg. She was rolling pale silk down her calf and ankle. “The garter will stay up without a stocking,” she explained as she laid it on the nearby couch. “It’s your turn to start.’

He couldn’t focus. The sight of Belle’s bare ankle was now permanently branded into his brain. He missed his first shot and he handed over the cue stick without a word. Belle sank all her shots and not wanting to be a bad sport, he stripped off his gray velvet waistcoat before kneeling down to build up the fire. Because she was about to be in her bare feet, he rationalized.

Within minutes, Belle’s next stocking came off just like the first. Gold didn’t even try not to watch. He managed to sink three balls before Belle took over to win the game.

Now it was his turn to remove his stocking. Then, in the next game, he lost the second so he too was wiggling his toes in the carpet, enjoying the sensation immensely. He played much better, winning the next game easily. Perhaps he should always play billiards in his bare feet, he considered.

Belle complained good-naturedly about his luck as she hiked her skirts up to reveal the ribbon garter tied above her knee. It was dainty pink satin rose and it took her a moment to untie the ribbon. She either had no concept of what she was doing or was one of the best seductresses England had ever produced. His blood pooled in his lower extremity, leaving his brain unwholly unprepared to do anything more than stare.

She straightened and tossed the garter towards her shoes. Gold caught it in mid-air, a reflex. As his fingers crushed the fabric, her scent wafted up to him. This was not just another game of billiards or a teasing joke amongst friends. He knew he should put an end to this but as she grinned in triumph as she moved to sink two more balls, he couldn’t find the strength to do it.

On Belle’s next shot, she moved to stand right beside him so that her skirts teased the top of his bare feet. He could have moved, but he didn’t. Belle tossed a grin over her shoulder at him, a challenge and an invitation before she potted her ball.

So caught up in her own rhythm, he doubted she even noticed she had won again. She handed him the cue but he didn't take it, instead of reaching up to flick open the buttons at this throat. She turned to say something just as he tugged his shirttails. He didn’t look away from her as he pulled his shirt over his head, emerging from the linen to find Belle's eyes were wide.

He had on an undershirt but Belle swallowed and wrenched her gaze back to the table. He was on the verge of apologizing for taking this too far when she missed her shot. She thrust the stick at him, and though he tried, tried his best to lose this game, Belle could not manage to land a single ball.

Her eyes kept returning to his arms, to his throat, to his collarbone and it was her oblivious admiration that drove him to play the best game of his life. When he potted his last ball within a minute of the game start, he did not apologize. He simply looked to her, waiting to see what would she would do.

Hoping- dreading, that she would call it a night.

He didn’t know why he wondered. Belle simply perched on the edge of a chair and lifted her skirt to above her knee to reveal her other garter. She fumbled with the ribbon but it was stubborn, perhaps the only thing in this room that knew the truth of what was proper. Belle grumbled, growing irritated as she fought through the layers of her skirts.

Gold knelt down in front of her chair and drew her bare foot to his thigh. He slowly skimmed his hands up the contours of her leg until he reached the garter above her knee. He wasn’t sure if he was breathing. He couldn’t look at Belle, he didn’t dare.

The ribbon was truly knotted, and it took him a moment of fumbling to free it, lingering on her inner thigh which was warm and smooth as silk. His hands were trembling- no Belle was trembling- he wasn’t sure where he stopped and she began.

By the time he managed to undo the knot, her skirts had inched up to her thighs. He handed her the ribbon. “Here you are,” he managed, his voice surprisingly steady considering the chaos raging inside him.

Her eyes were sparkling in the firelight, fierce and determined as she leaned forward and kissed him. He had been sitting on his heels, but he straightened until he was between her legs. Her skirts were crushed beneath them as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Belle leaned forward until she spilled off the edge of the chair and slid down to join him on the floor.

They were tangled around each other now, noses bumping and teeth clacking. They both began to laugh as Gold pressed his fevered forehead to her cheek. They lingered there for a moment, but Gold did not kiss her again.

After a moment, Belle stood and brushed her hands on her skirts.“My turn to start, I think,” she announced marching back over to the table. Before he could even find his wits, she had sunk all her balls. She turned to him with a determined expression. “The undershirt next, I think,” she challenged.

There was a fire in her eyes. If he was a better man, he would be able to find the right words, to explain he could not offer her what she deserved. If she was not careful, she would drive him past his threshold of reason...he was not a good man. She had to know that and yet she was here leading him into temptation at the risk of her own soul.

All he knew was he could not bear to refuse her. So, he wordlessly pulled his undershirt over her head. Her fingers tightened around her cue stick as her gaze dropped to his bare chest. He was not a young man anymore, hardly deserving of the look of frank desire that flared across her face but he reveled in it regardless.

Belle handed over her wonderful cue stick. He accepted the challenge, accepting she knew what she wanted and tired of fighting what he wanted as well.

The table changed hands four times before Belle lost. She stepped up to him, twisting to show him her back. There was a complicated arrangement of hooks and ties, but he had done this before, and within a moment, he had each of them undone and pushed the gown off her shoulders. The fabric rippled as it fell to her elbows.

As the air kissed her bare shoulders, she shuddered. Despite the fire, it was still April in London and the house was old. Hating that she was cold, Gold leaned to press a kiss to the nape of her neck and at her answering shiver, he moved to her ear, then the side of her throat, then to taste her shoulder. He kept pulling her gown lower, past her waist, over her hips until it dropped to the floor around her bare feet.

Clad only in her petticoats, stays, and shift, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His rational mind knew he had held her in his arms last night with only a flannel gown between them, but there was something wanton in the way her eyes were blown wide with desire. She wanted him and if he was a better man, he would have fled the room before the last shreds of his self-control snapped.

He stood there before her, knowing if she so much as lifted a finger toward him he would be lost. Perhaps she sensed this, because she blinked, casting her eyes back towards the table as if suddenly uncertain. “My turn?” she asked and it took him a good long moment to remember how to nod.

Her hair was starting to fall from her pins. The fire glistened off her hair as she moved from one end of the table to the other, potting one, two, three, four, five balls in a row. She bent down to the sixth when a curl fell into her eyes and she missed the ball entirely.

She exhaled in irritation, the curl floating up for a moment before stubbornly falling right back into her face. Gold laughed as she swatted at it, coming up behind her to pluck the pin from where it was nearly falling out of her hair. “An unexpected handicap,” he said, finding some familiar comfort in teasing her.

“A nuisance,” she grumbled. “I’ll have to cut it all off if I’m ever to play for stakes.”

“Ruthless,” he murmured as he plucked out another pin, and another until her hair fell about her shoulders.”You would destroy a thing of beauty?”

“If It meant winning,” Belle mused.

“If I win, then you shall never cut your hair again,” he decided as he took the cue stick from her.

“If you win, I lose my petticoat,” Belle corrected him.

That didn’t sound too bad to Gold, so he made all six shots through a mixture of skill and luck.  
Belle twisted her lips in feigned annoyance before she undid the tape that secured the petticoat around her waist. She pulled it over her head, revealing a knee-length, faintly translucent shift and short stays. The firelight illuminated the hem of the shift, turning it transparent and showing the shape of the thighs he had been stroking not too long ago.

Deciding to retreat back into the competitive banter, he started the next game, making his first ball easily enough. On the second shot, Belle leaned down, as if interested in seeing the angle, folding her arms on the cushion and leaning upon them. This was probably an excellent vantage point to see what would happen on his shot, and it also offered a perfect view of her breasts.

Gold stabbed the cue into the baize and Belle actually had the audacity to grin at him as she popped upwards to grab the cue stick. He gaped at her as she proceeded to pot all her balls and then turn to him with a raised brow.

He didn’t back down. He flicked open one button and then the next. Belle didn’t break her gaze from his face, but her breathing was growing erratic. He peeled off the garment, now only clad in a pair of knee-length linen drawers. She was one up on him.

He indicated for her to start the next game, and she sank three balls before missing due to a balding spot of baize. Seizing his opportunity, Gold decided he would at least leverage the playing field. He made his first two shots with easy and got lucky enough on the third to pot his ball.

“Hmm,” Belle sang as if they were both not nearly naked. “Three to three.”

“Three to go,” he reminded her as he potted the fourth. He sized up the table and noticed lady luck had favored him with an easy two for one shot. He lined up the stick and with a solid stroke, knocked both of his remaining balls into the pocket.

Belle hesitated. “I can’t undo these myself,” she confessed offering him a way out. He could simply say goodnight here, get dressed and go up to his rooms but he instead crooked a finger at her and beckoned her closer.

She moved to the edge of the table and he shifted so he stood behind her to better tackle the complexities of the modern ladies trousseau. Her stays ended at the waist, there was no need for a full-length corset with her petite frame and he made a reminder to send a generous tip to Cara.

His fingers were shaking as he pulled the laces through the eyelets. Her shift was sheer enough that this close he could see the curving lines of her hips. When the stays were undone, he pulled the straps from her shoulders. As he inched the garment down, he let his knuckles rasp against her breasts.

Belle sucked her breath in and her hips snapped back until she was flush between him and the pool table.

His control snapped. In seconds, he had her sitting on the edge of the pool table and kissing her without another thought. She was warm and pliable, her shift rasping against his bare chest as her arms came up to wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer to stand between her thighs.

He nudged her legs wider so he could tip her head back and her hands drifted down to his arms. She murmured something, something he couldn’t hear over the blood rushing in his ears as every inch of him screamed for him to lay her down on the table and run his mouth over every inch of her.

Her left hand was clutching his forearm as his hand cupped her breast. It was small and supple, fitting in the palm of his hand and she moaned into her mouth as her nipple hardened against the rough callous of his fingertips.

His answering moan was cut short as her other hand tentatively brushed against the swell brushing restlessly against her thigh. He swore against her neck, breaking away to inhale as her fingers grew bolder and started to trace him through the linen.

He had no conscious thought as he swept her back so he laid full-length across the table. She protested, trying to sit back upright, but he bent his head to her breast and started to nuzzle her through the thin shift as her fingers buried themselves into his hair.

He pulled the strap of her shift off her shoulder and began kissing her other breast now bare to him. She thrashed against him, her hands holding him in place even as her hips bucked beneath him. Something dim in the back of his mind told him he was rushing this, going too fast, but he ignored it as his fingers drifted down her sides, over her hips and to between her thighs.

When he touched her, she jerked and moaned and pleaded, her head rolling back and forth as he teased her like she had teased him all night. She was hot and wet under his touch and he buried his face into her neck as he plunged a finger into her- wanting to see her fall apart on the table before him-

And then she cried out in pain and the world went dark.

He pushed himself off her, staggering backward until he tripped over her petticoats and tumbled to the floor. She curled upwards, pushing her shift back into place, shaking like a leaf with tears in her eyes.

He had thought she was lost in passion- had she actually been-

“I’m sorry!” she cried out, her face twisted in guilt. “It surprised me-”

Gold staggered back to his feet to take her in his arms. She went willingly, not afraid of him, not angry at his defiling her- but scared and confused. “Shush,” he murmured as he brushed her hair. He had been about to take her on a pool table. He was sick to his stomach as she shivered against his bare chest. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I didn’t- I’m sorry,” she was mumbling but he just kept holding her, too afraid of what he had almost taken from her. He hadn’t expected- hadn’t known-

“You’re a virgin,” he said quietly as he dropped a kiss to the crown of her head.

She sniffled. “Of course I am,” she said, sounding vaguely insulted. He would have chuckled if he wasn’t so horrified. “Did you think-”

“I have never met a woman like you, Belle French,” he murmured as he pulled away long enough to tilt her chin up so he could look in her eyes. “I certainly have never met a virgin who challenged a lord to strip billiards.”

Belle colored slightly but true to form did not back down. “We’ll have to have a tiebreaker another time,” she said, looking back down at the table as if just remembering it was there.

“I was not my intention to hurt you,” he murmured as he took a step back to collect his coat from the chair. He brought it to her, wrapping her in it. She tugged it close, and it occurred to him the sight of her in his jackets was growing commonplace. “Go to bed,” he encouraged. “I’ll clean up here.”

With his help, she climbed off the table. He tugged his breeches on, but he wouldn’t meet her eye. “I didn’t mean-” She sighed. She had once again ruined everything. Unsure what to say, she simply said, “Good night.”

Belle slipped out the door, the floor cold as ice against her bare feet. The moon was bright outside and she had enough light to find her way without a candle. She hurried upstairs, relieved to find that Ruby had given up and gone to bed. She followed suit but her mind kept returning to the billiard room. She had never known such burning desire, such want as when he had been watching her. She had never felt this way about anyone before...one of the reasons perhaps she was a spinster at nearly thirty.

She had never truly understood desire until tonight when Gold had been standing behind her, his breath on the nape of her neck and she had felt both completely empty and wanting and yet overflowing.

She turned over in the bed to gaze out the window at the moon. If she had not been so naive, she would be curled up in Gold’s arms at this very moment, instead of in her room alone.

And what would that make her? Her stomach twisted. A mistress? Gold was a lord. He certainly couldn’t marry a spinster schoolmistress cottager from Avonlea.

She tossed and turned for most of the night, wondering how she would face the morning.

\--

In the morning, Belle did not appear at breakfast. Gold waited until the staff cleaned away the hot plates as they prepared for lunch. “Excuse me,” he said as the head butler moved to take away the paper. “Has Miss French woken yet?”

The man did not so much as blink. “Your cousin went for a walk this morning,” he said, laying emphasis on the word that made it clear the staff knew Belle was anything but his cousin.

They were not far from Hyde Park and Belle enjoyed the gardens. Confident he would find her there and with no patience to wait for her to return home, Gold set out to find her.

It did not take long. She was standing overlooking the lake when he approached her. “You missed breakfast.”

She had on her plain clothes from Avonlea and dark shadows under her eyes. “I rose early.”

“To avoid me?”

She sighed and turned to him. “To think, my lord.”

He tucked her hand into his elbow, resting his hand over her own as they began to walk towards the Serpentine. “I’m relieved that you’re talking to me today.”

“I have no reason to be angry with you. Everything that has happened between us has been of my doing,” she told him plainly. “I got caught up in the excitement of everything and I lost my head.”

Nearly her maidenhead, too.

“Surely...it would be easiest for both of us if I went to live back at home in Avonlea.” A cold chill swept down his back. Belle felt him tense and hurried to add,” We can’t-”

He did not let her finish. “Our original agreement has not changed. If you leave Ashkam, I’ll drop my plans for the valley.”

“Why?” Belle demanded. “You don’t- What does my presence or absence matter? You’ve seen the mines, you’ve seen the village- you know as a lord-”

He did know. He also knew if she had never stepped foot in his library, he would be somewhere far away right now. He would have never known the agony of her face, screwed up in pain that he had caused. Nor would he know the feeling of anxiety crawling up his throat and twisting his fears into ugly, hateful words. He swallowed them, one by one.

He opened his mouth to tell her that he couldn’t face a life without her smile. To tell her he was a selfish bastard who could not fathom life at Ashkam without her but all he said was, “You made a deal.”

Belle sighed. “So be it.”


	20. Chapter 20

To Belle’s surprise, Gold offered Ruby a position at Askham Hall. Belle tried to tell her there were no ladies there, but Ruby simply rolled her eyes. “If he’s hiring me to be a lady’s maid and there are no ladies, then I won’t have to work will I?” Ruby told her matter of factly. “Besides, I’ve never seen anything outside of London.”

Since the disastrous encounter in the billiards room, Gold had taken to treating Belle like a beloved sister. He was always around when she needed him, conscious of her needs, defensive if he sensed she was having trouble and considerate to a fault.

It was driving Belle mad. She toyed with the idea of broaching the subject with him, but every time she tried, embarrassment caught her tongue and held it. Her dreams taunted her as her memory provided rich fodder for fantasies. She often woke up with a restless ache between her legs.

On the return to Ashkam, Gold rode his horse rather than sitting in the carriage with Belle and Ruby. Despite Belle’s growing fondness for Ruby, the trip felt much longer on the return journey.  
Ruby was enchanted by the Welsh countryside in the spring. When Belle gazed out the window, Avonlea did not feel quite not the same as it had when she had left it. Or perhaps she was not the same.

Dove met them at the door. He sent Ruby to her new quarters, not at all questioning why they had acquired a lady maid or why the town schoolmistress was dressed in clothes that were far too refined for her station. Belle filled him in on what she had ordered for the house and when to expect the packages. Then, they discussed a few issues that had risen in her absence. Such as, “Have any of the servants left?’

“Left?” Dove repeated.

She sighed. “Due to my immoral behavior?”

“Ah,” he said with a nod. “Two. Astrid Nova and an Isabel Tinker. Isabel didn’t want to go, but her mother insisted.”

Belle had expected worse. “Do you foresee any more problems?” Her timely trip to London may have helped stem a mass exodus but now that she had returned...

“I doubt it, ma’am,” Dove assured her. “I could have easily hired two replacements but I thought you’d rather do it yourself when you returned. Jobs are hard to come by and there are not many people who will walk away from a good one because of a bit of gossip.”

Belle spent the day evaluating what had been done while she had been away. Dove and the servants had done a beautiful job on the public rooms. Each one was clean, bright and uncluttered. She looked forward to the arrival of the paper, paints, and fabrics she had chosen in London. Askham Hall was quickly evolving into a home.

Right before Belle retired upstairs to change for dinner, Dove came to announce she had a visitor.

“A visitor?”

Dove nodded, used to people repeating what he had just said. “A Mr. David Nolan to see you.”

Belle barely let him finish, racing off to the front hall with hurried thanks tossed over her shoulder. She careened into the hall to find David clutching his cap and gazing in amazement at the high chandelier.

“What are you doing here?” Belle asked as she embraced him. “Is Mary Margaret here?”

He shook his head. “She’s home with Emma. I came to speak with Gold if he had a moment. Nothing important, but something he might be interested to hear.”

Hearing the raised voices, Gold appeared in the hall from the direction of the library. Upon seeing David, he came forward to shake his hand. “I had planned on paying you a call,” Gold said as he shook the hewer’s hand. “I have some questions for you.”

“As it happens, I have a few for you as well,” David said in return.

Gold ushered them both into the library and gestured for David to take a seat in one of the leather chairs.

“This is probably nothing, but a few days ago I saw something rather odd over by Bryan Manor.”

A far cry from Askham, which was crisscrossed by public pathways, Bryn Manor was surrounded by a stone wall, where visitors were clearly not welcome. “What on Earth were you doing over there?” Belle asked him.

“Emma was chasing after a kitten we chanced upon while out for a walk. It scampered off into the woods and Emma took off after it down a trail of sorts. She caught it just shy of a crumbling stone wall which I recognized as the private property of Bryn Manor. Oddest thing though. I noticed smoke rising from a nearby ridge.”

“From Bryn Manor?” Gold cut in, his eyes cutting to Belle as they both wondered the same thing. Had Killian Jones followed them back to Wales?

David shook his head. “It was a hut built in the hillside, but it was a warm day, much too nice for a fire. Well, my curiosity got the better of me. I headed down to get a better look and stumbled upon a hut. I figured someone had taken to squatting when the door opened and Gaston strolled out.”

“Gaston lives clear on the other side of town,” Belle said with a shake of her head. “What would be doing in a hut on Bryn Manor?”

“I thought the same thing,” David said. “So, I instructed Emma to wait on the ridge and I went to poke about. Not much in the hut beside a large oven, almost like a kiln. I saw one up at Swansea a few years back. There was also a table littered with tools. I recognized some but not all of them.” David paused. “ I don’t like to jump to conclusions but if I was a bettering man, I’d say they were processing high-grade metal ore. Most likely silver.”

“You think Gaston stumbled upon silver?” Gold considered this claim. “How would no one have noticed?”

David shrugged. “If he brings it out in small deposits, none of us would. And since Lord Killian isn’t in residence, Bryn Manor is a good enough spot as any to melt it down. Gaston oversees the property. So, if he’s caught out there, he’s not exactly trespassing, is he?”

Belle jumped to her feet. “Why, that’s it! The mine’s lease only covers coal. If Gaston is taking silver from the mine, you’d have grounds to break the lease. It doesn’t matter if Lord Jones knows what they’re doing or not, his company is legally liable for taking anything that belongs to you!”

Gold grabbed her for a quick, triumphant spin about the room, caught up in the same excitement thrumming through her. David tugged at his collar as he tried not to notice a lord twirling around one of his oldest friends. “Jones has flatly refused to make any changes so we’ve been trying to break the lease,” he explained as he set Belle back down.

“But we needed evidence,” Belle added breathlessly.

Gold was practically brimming with excitement as he considered how close they were. “Can you take me into the pit again?” he asked David. “That way we can testify to illegal mining to the court. Jones would have to close down the existing operation and I could open my own.”

David mulled it over. “It’ll be difficult. Gaston has given orders to be notified immediately if you come onto the property. The men can’t risk their livelihoods...”

Gold nuddled, considering the possibilities. “What if we went down at night?”

“Ah,” David said scratching the back of his neck. “There’d be no way to operate the whim gin in the dead of night without the entire countryside hearing us. But...we could try the old shaft. It’s narrow but there’s a bucket that can raise or lower one man at a time.”

“How about four days from now?” Gold suggested. “That gives me some time to look into the legal aspects and visit that hut for evidence of melted silver. No use in risking the law getting involved if there’s nothing yet.”

David nodded. “The sooner, the better you ask me. There’s been three tunnel collapses in the last fortnight. Gaston’s harvesting timber for new tunnels.”

Belle’s stomach dropped. “Has anyone-?”

“No,’ he hurried to assure her with a grim smile. “No deaths since the flood but...I feel it. Something’s coming.”

“Not if I can help it,” Gold declared and by God, Belle believed him.


	21. Chapter 21

Ruby had taken to coming up every morning to dress her, despite Belle’s insistence that she had no business with a lady’s maid. “No business with these rooms either,” Ruby had responded with a pointed look around the lavish room. There was no arguing that Gold continued to treat her like a lady, but Belle was starting to feel like she was some kind of pet.

May Day dawned cloudy but warm. Belle woke to Ruby throwing open the window to let the spring air circulate into the room. The young woman had taken to Avonlea like a fish in water, fond of the country meadows and the whims of weather that was utterly Welsh. “His lordship is going for a ride this morning before the storm,” Ruby said as she fetched out one of the riding gowns Gold had insisted buying for her in London.

Belle stumbled out of bed as Ruby gathered the stays and corset. “Oh good, I had hoped I might take a look at the study today. It needs new curtains-”

“You’re going with him,’ Ruby said as she unceremoniously tugged Belle’s nightgown over her head.

Belle emerged from the flannel, blinking like an owl. “He didn’t mention it last night…”

“I suggested to the groomsman that the next time his lordship went for a ride to saddle Chip for you.”

“Oh you did, did you?” Belle said as Ruby made quick work of her stays and corset.

“I thought perhaps some exercise might do you good,” Ruby said noncommittedly as she fastened the petticoats. “You’ve been rather pale since we’ve gotten back from London.”

“I’m always pale, I’m English,” Belle pointed out but Ruby ignored this fact. Belle dressed, ready and down the stairs in under ten minutes. Ruby had brought Belle up some toast to eat while she pinned up her hair and Belle didn’t bother to argue. It usually rained on May Day, but the sun was peeking through the clouds and the breeze was mild.

Gold was waiting for her at the stables. They headed down to the lake which laid between the house and the quarry. They rode in companionable silence for the most part. Belle told him a bit about the latest house projects, and he nodded and asked all the right questions.

When they were almost to the lake, Gold casually mentioned, “The groom was just telling me that Jones returned to the valley yesterday. He’s staying at Bryn Manor as he looks into the mine.”

It was like a ghost had followed them from London, here to the safety of Wales. She had thought Lord Killian might end up following Gold out here but she hadn’t really dreamed it would be so soon-

“Don’t look so horrified,” Gold chuckled as he held The Dark One back. The stallion neighed in annoyance, tossing his great black head about as the bit cut into his gums as he strained to trot forward. “Bryn Manor is the only house Jones owns. With the war over, where else would he go?”

Belle surveyed the hills nervously. She had grown up here, knew the landscape like the back of her hand, but now every ridge held a potential enemy, every tree masked a lurking threat. “Or he’s here to pursue his quarrel.”

Possible,” Gold agreed. “he’s not so reckless to do anything rash. if anything were to happen to me, he’d be the prime suspect.”

Or flee before anyone was the wiser, Belle thought darkly.

Gold did not miss the doubt stamped on her face. “It’s far more likely that once he cooled down, he decided to investigate what I said about the mine. All things considered, it is his business and if something’s afoot, he’d want to know.”

“I hope you’re right,” Belle murmured, utterly unconvinced. The sky had grown increasingly gray and there was a rumble of distant thunder.

“We should turn around,” Gold decided after surveying the clouds to the west. “The storm’s coming in fast.”

He turned The Dark One back towards home just as another crack of thunder hit, this one much closer. To Belle’s surprise, Chip shied violently to the right as The Dark One threw back his head and screamed.

Gold struggled to retain his seat as The Dark One reared again, the powerful forelegs kicking through the air as if to fight a phantom. Gold swore as he pulled at the reins, but the stallion was spooked. Belle pulled Chip back and away, the poor pony shaking like a leaf.

“Get around the bend!” Gold shouted over The Dark One’s shrieks. Belle went to argue but couldn’t have shouted over The Dark One’s latest shriek if she had tried. “Now!” Gold demanded and Belle kicked Chip’s ribs so the pony bolted back the way they had come.

Belle craned her neck to see if Gold had followed and nearly fell off Chip. She had to twist back and clutch at the pommel but she regained her balance as Chip flew down the hill until the track curved around some rocks. She managed to rein Chip in, already turning him about to go back to Gold but could hear the sound of a horse hurrying after them.

The second the stallion rounded the corner, Belle noticed the blood coating Gold’s leg. She started to stammer, unable to form words at all. Gold held up a hand, the other still clutching the reins as The Dark One heaved and huffed under him. ‘The bullet grazed his side. It’ll scar but no major harm was done.”

“No harm done?” Belle exclaimed. “Are you daft? You could have been killed!”

“Belle,” he said, pitching his voice low as he began to stroke The Dark One’s side in reassuring circles. “Poachers are fairly common in this part of the property. It’s not the first time they’ve accidentally shot someone.”

Belle’s firsts were balled in her lap. “You just finished telling me Lord Jones has returned to Avonlea and then were almost shot!”

“How would he know where to find me today?” he challenged, leaning over to apply a handkerchief to the stallion's side. The horse hissed, its muscles flexing at the touch, but he did not buck his rider. “Belle, relax. it was an accident.”

She was vibrating, hardly able to keep still and he was utterly calm! “How do you know that!”

“Because,” he said, lifting his eyes. “Jones wouldn’t have missed.”

“You’re impossible!” Belle blurted, the hysteria rising. “At least go back and see if it was poachers or-”

“Whoever it was, they’re long gone.”

“Then at least go to the magistrate-”

“Without a shred of evidence?” Gold shook his head. “At best, they’d throw me out. At worst, they’d drag in some suspected poachers and try them to the full arm of the law whether or not they anything. I won’t have a man jailed because he was trying to feed his family.”

Belle was torn between slapping him and kissing him. The arrogant lord who had not cared a lick about anyone but himself had gone away. In his place, was this man who would not see others put at risk even when his own neck was on the line.

He continued to murmur nonsensical words of comfort to the stallion who was slowly starting to relax. Belle wished she could as well but there was a knot in her stomach. “At least take some precautions,” she suggested, unable to let this go. “Perhaps you should cancel any upcoming trips-”

“I’m not going to spend the rest of my life indoors and avoiding windows if that’s what you’re about to suggest.” Belle opened her mouth to argue but he raised a hand. “Belle, I know you’re worried but I honestly believe it was just that. An accident. If Jones comes after me, it won’t be a bullet from a great distance.”

“You hadn’t seen the man in over four years and the first thing he did was attack you!” Belle reminded him. “He has nursed a grudge, seen the horrors of war, the man you knew is not the same man in Bryn Manor!”

“Nor am I the man who fled Ashkam Hall,” he growled back as thunder rolled in the distance. The horses both lifted their ears, and Gold nodded for them to continue back before they were caught in a storm.

Belle followed after him, biting her tongue. When they were in sight of the stables, she finally allowed herself to relax. Up ahead, Gold stopped the stallion short. “I met Jones when I was at Oxford. His uncle was the chancellor and he spent most of his time at the school with him. He was half my age, barely past puberty and was vain and proud. He drifted around the campus, picking fights with the older boys until finally one day he challenged me to a fencing match, claiming he was the superior swordsman.”

Gold chuckled. “Here was this boy, half my age, desperately trying to be seen as something more than he was. I took him up on his challenge, and after three rounds, I was declared winner though it was a near thing. He became a shadow of mine after that...challenging me to everything and anything.”

Belle remained quiet, almost able to picture the boy with black hair and skinny knees with pale blue eyes watching the young men stride past him, and how much he must have wished to be amongst them.

“When I met him, he was angry, bitter and destructive- but also curious, passionate and determined. He would not kill a man in cold blood,” Gold’s eyes swung to hold her’s. “He would want to see the life seep out their eyes face to face. He is dangerous, but he has his own kind of honor.”

A chill ran down Belle’s spine. “I’m not asking you to live the rest of your life as a recluse, just...be careful.”

As he glanced back over at her, his shoulders tightened at the look on her face. Belle knew what he saw there, stamped on her face because she was done trying to hide it. She could not bear the idea of losing him because God help her, she loved him. She loved him.

For a moment she wondered if he would say something but he simply nodded and with a soft nudge, started The Dark One towards the stables.

Belle could not blame him.


	22. Chapter 22

The morning of the journey back into the mines was foggy. Gold hurried to dress in his borrowed miner’s clothing which David had dropped by yesterday afternoon. Despite the risks, he was looking forward to today. He had not felt so alive in years as he did now, challenging injustice, seeking out the truth…

Being with Belle.

He swore and quickly shut down this line of thought. His desire for her had not abated but he had made every effort to keep his distance. Every thought was stamped upon her face like the books she so loved. He could simply glance at her and know her every feeling, and yesterday, she had all but told him-

Would it be so bad? he wondered. Belle was not Milah or any of the other women he had known in his life. She was not interested in the money; nor did she give one wit about being a lady. She had no use for titles or customs…. he just couldn’t understand what a woman like Belle French could possibly see in a man like him beyond a title and a fortune.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed David waiting for him in a clump of trees not far from the mines. He was with another man, who he introduced as Leroy who would be operating the rope and bucket. Belle had wanted to come, but both men had flatly refused to let her accompany them. It was dangerous enough as it was and while Gold had every confidence in Belle, he had almost lost her last time they had descended into the mines. He couldn’t face that again.

As they made their way to the bottom of the valley, the usual clamor of the mine was distorted through the fog. They went slowly through the thick fog until they reach the shaft.

Gold hitched his horse to the wheel that operated the bucket. David decided to go down first, lighting a candle before he disappeared down the narrow shaft. The wheel creaked as it lowered the man deep into the earth and then in no time at all it seemed, it was Gold’s turn.

The shaft was narrower than the main shaft. The bucket swayed and banged against the sides of the shaft as he descended. His candle blew out before he hit the bottom.

David was there to relight it, and Gold felt an absurd rush of gratitude to see him. “Which way?”

They took a roundabout route to avoid being seen. They were nearly there when they heard the sound of carts approaching. David pulled him into an abandoned passage, only emerging when the wheel’s rattles had faded.

They were going in the same direction as the cart, so they went slowly until finally, the boys turned into a tunnel. “I thought this was an older section?”

“It is,” David said over his shoulder. “There’s too much gas here. It's the reason we moved to the new shaft but there’s a good vein down that tunnel. I didn’t want to mention it but...after the flood, Gaston lowered the payment rates. People are getting desperate. We have to cut almost double the coal to make the same money as we used to.”

Gold filed that away in case Jones ever came to his senses and called at the Hall to discuss things like civilized men. When they reached the passage with timber nailed across it, they crawled underneath easily enough. “Look for holes,” David instructed. “Silver’s often found in air pockets.”

Gold began skimming the wall with his palm. After a few moments, his hand disappeared into a gap just around his knees. It was about two feet wide, enough for a man to crawl through.

“After you,” David said with a grin.

Swallowing his pride, Gold dropped on his stomach and crawled inside. The cavity curved left for a bit then opened into a larger space where he could stand comfortably. His candle illuminated a thousand glittering surfaces as he raised it up.

David was right behind him, getting to his feet with a look of awe that Gold suspected was mirrored on his own face. “A crystal cave,” David whistled. “I’ve seen small ones but never...never one this large.”

The two of them easily stood in the space. It was a surreal experience but the quartz was not the precious metal they had been looking for. David leaned over to examine something and a flash of silver erupted to life. “There. Wire silver was chiseled out here- and here-”

They found over forty chiseled places that indicated Gaston had been busy. As Gold raised his cane to study the ceiling, he saw a knot of silver threads around a spur of quartz. He pointed it out to David who set to work.

It was a painstaking process. “How is Gaston even finding the time to do this?” Gold asked as he continued to examine the cage at large. Belle would love this place. He almost wished she was here to see it, dangerous mission or not.

“My guess is he comes down when the rest of us head home,” David said. “Here.”

He handed over the whole formation of silver and quartz, the size of an apple but much heavier. Gold wrapped it in a handkerchief and placed it in his jacket pocket. Retracing their steps, they passed the tunnel that led to the new face. It was quiet there now. “Is it break already?” Gold asked.

David shook his head. “Feel the air? It’s heavier.”

Gold hadn’t been paying attention but he recognized the signs of gas from his last trip down.

“They must have noticed and left well enough alone for today,” David told him. “There’s always the risk of dusty air explosions and I doubt the timber in this section would hold. Gaston’s harvested most of it for the newer sections.”

They both silently agreed to hurry back to the bucket regardless. They had just reached it when an explosion boomed behind them. Someone screamed in the distant and a rumble thundered through the tunnels. Another explosion, this one closer as the walls around them began to quiver and shake.

The mine was collapsing.

There was no way the bucket could support them both at once. Gold shoved David in front of him.. “Go!” he ordered. “You have a family-”

David hesitated, but then his mouth went thin. “I’m sorry,” was all he said before his left fist collided with Gold’s chin.

Stunned, Gold staggered backward into the bucket. David jerked on the signal rope and before Gold could recover, the bucket was shooting upwards and there was earth on either side of him. He nearly hit his head and had to clutch at the ropes as wind sucked through the shaft and the bucket rocked against the walls.

He dove out of the bucket at the surface to Leroy’s surprise. “Send it back down!” he shouted. “There’s been an explosion-”

Familiar with the signs of collapse, Leroy already had it going back down. Gold jumped into action to encourage the horse to go faster but it was too late. The earth roared beneath them as clouds of suffocating smoke erupted into the fog along with the bucket. It ripped free of the ropes and crashed to the ground, far enough away Gold couldn’t even see where it landed in the mist.

The shaft crumbled and collapsed inward, and the smoke stopped as suddenly as it had appeared.

And just like that, the tragedy Belle had predicted came to pass.


	23. Chapter 23

Everyone in the valley knew the second the explosion hit. Every man, woman, and child for miles converged on the mine to help with rescue operations The old shaft was sealed shut as if it had never existed, but the main shaft was still operational.

Gold went back down into the pit via the main shaft. A few recognized their lord even in his borrowed miner’s clothes but no one said anything. He was not an earl here, he was just another pair of badly needed hands. He shifted stones for hours until his hands were raw. He was on the verge of collapse from exhaustion when he managed to free a youth. The boy, still alive, gave him the energy to keep going.

Most of the men they found were beyond help but Gold kept digging. He lost track of time, space and meaning until someone tapped him on the shoulder. “Milord, have you been down here all day?”

Gold honestly didn’t know. So, he shook his head. He had not gotten far enough to where David would be- he had to keep going-

“Milord?” a familiar voice said as Leroy reappeared. The other man shook his head at the sight of him. “He’s been down here since it happened,” he murmured to the group gathering about them. “Nearly ten hours now.”

Gentle hands guided him back to the lift despite his protests. The sun was settling into the horizon when he emerged, the valley drenched in reds and oranges. There were people everywhere he looked. Some were handing out sandwiches and hot tea, others marshaling new recruits to head down but more were just families...waiting to know.

Gold stood there in the midst of the chaos until he saw Belle standing nearby. She was handing out the food to the workers. She didn’t see him there, and he couldn’t face her in this state. She did not look frantic or worried and he trusted someone would have told the others about the lord down working down in the pit. She knew he was safe.

Needing to see it for himself, he wandered over to the makeshift morgue. Bodies were lined in two rows and covered with coal sacks. He had discovered many of them but as he watched, another body was laid out, increasing the death toll to twenty-nine.

A group of women descended...to see if it was the new body was their husband or son or father. Gold turned away unable to bear it only to run into another woman instead. She was gazing fiercely up at him with green eyes that were red-rimmed. “I’m David’s wife,” she managed. “He was with you…?”

Gold’s throat closed. The horrors of the day crashed down on him but he held his back straight. He could not break down in front of these people...these people who had lost so much because he had left-

Before he could speak, Belle appeared at their side. “Mary Margaret-”

“David told me you were going down the old shaft. The engineer’s already warned us not to expect any survivors from that area of the mine but I want to hear it from you.”

She was shaking all over. Belle stepped between them and wrapped the other woman in her arms but Mary Margaret just kept gazing at him until he finally shook his head.

She broke. She folded in two, Belle barely able to keep her upright as sobs racked her body. Every cry was a knife.

“I’m taking you home,” Belle decided. “Emma needs you.”

That was all it took. Mary Margaret took a deep breath, swallowing her grief until she was able to nod. Her eyes went to Gold. “I- Thank you for trying,” she managed. “David truly believed...you would find a way to help us.”

He didn’t know what to do. “You’ll never want for anything,” he promised her. “I know it can’t...can’t replace him but I swear it.”

Mary Margaret choked back another sob but she nodded her head. Belle gripped her elbow and helped her away, casting one last look back at him. It was almost dark and torches were being lit.

Left to his own devices, he made his decision. He went back to the main shaft and joined the group waiting to return to the pit. Each of them was covered with black coal dust, exhausted determination stamped on their faces.

“Lonsdale?”

Gold didn’t respond at first, too tired to recognize his own titled name until it repeated. “Lonsdale!”

Lord Killian Jones had returned to his mine to organize the rescue work, at home in carnage the way only a soldier could be.

“Get off my property this instant or I’ll-!”

“You need all the help you can get,” Gold said as the lift rose back up with more men in need of a break. They had a hollowed out look on their face, hope fading with every hour. There were still too many missing.

Jones was shouting something but Gold’s ears were ringing. Ignoring Jones, Gold got back on the lift and returned to the mine.

\--

Belle brought Mary Margaret and Emma to Askham Hall that evening. In the morning, Belle went from house to house in the village with food and supplies. No one turned her away despite the vicious rumors that had chased her from the market weeks ago. When she returned, Dove told her the Nolans had returned home.

She was planning to call on them the next morning when Dove appeared in the breakfast room. He summoned her outside where Leroy was standing with a horse pulled cart. In the back of the cart, a man was laid sprawled out, still as death.

“Gold!” Belle cried as she dropped to his side. His mining clothes were shredded at the knees, and encrusted with so much filth and coal, they were beyond repair. She only had eyes for him. He had streaks of blood on his hands, his shoulder-length hair matted with sweat, dirt, and coal-

Seeing her despair, Leroy hurried to explain, “He’s fine, Miss French! He hasn’t slept in two days. He finally collapsed.”

Two footmen lifted the earl from the straw-filled cart. Belle went to follow after them, but Dove shook his head. “We’ll take good care of him, miss,” he assured her before he disappeared inside after them.

Dove was right, she would just be in the way but ….Belle’s eyes closed for a second, fighting back tears. She was relieved and worried all at the same time. “Do...they have the final causality list?” she said, turning to Leroy.

“Thirty-two dead, about a hundred injured and...five still missing. Including David. But…”

“They don’t expect to find anyone else alive,” Belle finished for him.

He nodded grimly. “They’ve got a crew to keep looking but regular work starts back tomorrow in the parts of the pit unaffected.”

Business as usual. Her gut churned as she thought about Gaston and Lord Jones. It hadn’t even been a week and they were sending men back down to their deaths!

“Thank you for bringing Lord Lonsdale home,” she told Leroy. “Let me get you something to eat and I can see about-”

“Oh no need, Miss French. Lord Jones handled it.” He rattled his pocket of coins and whistled. “Right tough for a cripple,” he said brandishing his left hand in a hooked figure. “Went down in the pit several times and moved rock and stone just like the rest of us.” Leroy leaned in. “We’re hoping he’ll manage the mine himself now, Lord knows Gaston wouldn’t have spent three days on rescue work.’

It was on the tip of Belle’s tongue to point out that Lord Jones had the blood of every man that had died down there on his hands but perhaps Leroy was right and the man had some redeemable qualities after all.

She bid Leroy goodbye and went into the hall, wondering what to do next.

Ruby found her there five minutes later and drew her up to her rooms. “You need rest,” she told her “Lord Lonsdale’s sleeping. Come on, miss.”

\--

It was dark out when she woke.

A storm rattled the windowpane as Belle laid there, staring at the canopy ceiling. She tried to fall back to sleep. When it proved impossible, she crawled out of the bed.

She was still wearing her day gown but Ruby was nowhere in sight, probably having checked on her a few times before she had gone to bed herself.

Belle tied her hair back with a ribbon instead of braiding it, and put on her slippers. She planned to wander down to the kitchen to have some tea. Perhaps Dove would still be up and she could inquire on how Gold was.

As she descended the stairs, the clock showed it was well past midnight. Around her, the house was utterly quiet and dark...all except the library.

Firelight shone out into the hallway. Belle wavered at the ajar door before she pushed it open and slipped inside.

Gold was at the window in his shirtsleeves, almost exactly like he had the day they had met. Except now it was dark outside, misting rain coating the window as he gazed out at the storm. That, and there was a dark shadow on his jaw, a purple-black bruise as if he had been struck.

A crack of thunder in the distance and a bolt of lightning illuminated his face. “I should have done more,” he murmured. “You told me how dire the situation was but I didn’t take it seriously- I didn’t want to take it seriously.”’

“Don’t do this to yourself. It’s barely been a month and look how much you’ve done! You’re re-opening the quarry. You went all the way to London to save the mine- the mine where you’ve nearly died twice now- what more could you possibly have done?”

“It’s my fault those men are dead- it’s my fault David’s dead!” His voice was strained, a taut wire about to snap

“Don’t do this to yourself.”

He hung his head, his hair falling like a curtain over his anguished face. For a moment, he said nothing.

“I told David to go up first.”

It was a confession. Raindrops spattered against the glass.

“Another or minute or two...that’s all it would have taken but there wasn’t...enough time.” He lifted his hand to touch the bruise on his face. “It shouldn’t have been him. He was a husband and a father and a friend.” He turned to Belle, a man wracked by guilt. “Why didn’t he just go?”

Belle wanted to go to him, but there was a tension radiating from him that she didn’t dare disturb. “If he sacrificed himself for you...it was because you can change things. You can change the mines so no other men die for greed and stupidity. Your life is worth the hundreds of lives you can save-”

Gold moved to the fireplace, bending his head to the flames as he regarded the basket of coal beside it. “I should have acted sooner. Every one of their deaths is on my head-”

Belle refused to listen to this but he was so far gone…. had he spent these past two days digging in an attempt to find David or digging his own path to hell?

“It is not your fault Gaston pushed the mine to be lethal. Or that he stole and lied and sent good men to their deaths. It’s not your fault Lord Jones let a man like that control his business-”

“No, but it is my fault that when someone came to me to for help, I mocked them. I wanted to be free of all this,” he said gesturing to the hall around them. I offered you a ridiculous deal and you took it anyway because you knew- you knew- that it had to be done.” He took a deep breath. “I release you. Go home to Avonlea and I’ll fulfill my end of the agreement. I’ll do everything you’ve asked me for but I won’t hold you here any longer.”

“You’re sending me away?”

“I release you from a cruel man’s jape, a deal sustained by a coward’s fears.”

“No.”

He jerked back as if she had hit him. “Are you daft?” he hissed, but the anger was not at her, never at her. It was internal hatred given voice as grief, shame, exhaustion, and fear bore down on a man at his breaking point. “Go!”

“No,” she repeated as she stood. Outside, the thunderstorm was raging across the valley. Lightning flashed and the fire crackled as she stood and went to him. “You will not punish yourself through me,” she told him as she stared up at him, the fire illuminating him from behind. “You’d send me away to be alone again.”

His hands balled into fists at his sides. His face was lost and empty as all anger fled from him. He stood empty and forlorn, his own worst enemy. “I don’t deserve-”

“What about what I deserve?” Belle interrupted him. “Do you care about my feelings on being sent away? Don’t you know?”

“Belle,” his voice broke on her name as his fingertips came up as if to trace her face. “I’m...a difficult man...You give and give and give and all I know is how to take...I won’t do that to you.”

Belle clasped his hand against her cheek. She had known she had loved him for long enough but she would not force that on him, not now, when he was barely holding it together. But he had to know. “I’m staying,” she said quietly as she pressed a chaste kiss to his palm. “In whatever way you need me.”

She was opening herself up for rejection and for heartache but if he needed a friend, she would hold him while he slept as she had once before. If he needed an opponent, she would stand here and hold her own- and if he needed something else….

Belle slid her hand up his arm, slowly, but he did not drop his own hand away. His fingers traced the curve of her jaw before dropping down to finger the curls spilling down across her shoulder. She unbuttoned the throat of his shirt and when it was loose, she slid her hands under the fabric and began to massage way the knotted muscles underneath.

He closed his eyes and drew in a shuddering breath. “Belle, you-”

“I’m yours,” she said quietly. “If you’ll have me.”

He let out a groan. “God, help me, I would have you. I would have you in every way a man has a woman-”

She kissed him, knowing exactly what he was about to say and so relieved to have him here, with her, despite everything that she could not wait for a second longer. There was no turning back.

His arms circled around her as he kissed her back, tentative at first but Belle did not back down. She poured every inch of herself into the kiss, having thought she would never get the chance to again.

Gold responded in kind. He had to pull away first, sucking in a ragged breath. He was still a man, exhausted and spent after nearly three days of trauma.

Belle lowered them both to kneel upon the carpet, murmuring noises of encouragement as he fought to get control of his tremors. He continued to cling to her, his face buried in her neck as he struggled to regain control of himself.

Belle stroked his hair as the fire crackled beside them. She would go to hell itself to protect this man, and she had nearly had to but know that he was here, in her arms, just for this moment, she could relax even as the storm raged outside, it could not touch them. Nothing could touch them here and now.

He pressed a kiss to her neck, wondering and soft. And then another right above it, and another as he murmured words of adoration into her skin, branding her for life. No matter what tomorrow brought, they would face it together.

He pressed a kiss to the spot to the spot below her ear. It tickled as she shifted so she was kissing him instead. His fingers cupped the back of her neck, drawing her closer to him. She went willingly, her own arms tightening around him as his fingers started to unfasten the buttons that secured her dress.

Her skin tightened in anticipation as he made quick work. He pushed up on his knees, deepening the kiss as he pushed the fabric off her shoulders and arms. She let go of him just long enough to pull her hand free before she plunged her fingers into his hair, pushing it back from his face.

He undid the drawstring of her shift and then he was cupping her breast in his hand. Belle arched against him, breaking the kiss as his calloused fingers rasped against her bare skin. A sweet ache was coursing through her and she was no longer going to be denied.

She pulled his shirttails out from his breeches so she could slip her own hands underneath. Gold jerked and then moaned as her fingers scratched over his own nipple. Gold yanked his shirt over his head, tossing it into the shadows of the room.

The fire danced over them both. They knelt there, as if in prayer before each other, breathing deeply and taking their fill of each other's bodies. He still bore the wounds of his duel, a few had opened after his three days of work, but Dove had doctored them to the best of his abilities.

Belle reached out to trace one but Gold drew her down onto the carpet. There would be no visiting the past here and now. They were forging ahead. He returned to kissing her, and he did not hold back as he covered her with his own body. The carpet prickled against her back so she arched into him and he pulled away with a muffled (appreciative) curse.

He bent his head back to her but instead of her lips, he applied his kiss to her breast. The warm heat of his mouth sent sparks through her entire body and she flailed as she wiggled under his expert tongue, holding him in place lest she dislodge him.

Something throbbed deep within her, but she was done being scared. This want- no, this need- was worth any pain. Gold swept her skirts up to her belly, stroking her inner thighs. It was meant to comfort her, put her at ease but it was teasing, tortuous as her entire body yearned for something more.

‘Gold-” she attempted and at the sound of his name, his hand moved to brush the crux of her thighs. She cried out as the sensation crackled through her body just as a bolt of lightning lit the sky outside. She rubbed against his hand, shamelessly pleading as he pulled away to undo his breeches.

She glanced down the length of her body to find her skirt crushed around her stomach, Gold’s breeches hung open, ripped nearly in two. She caught the briefest glimpse of his swollen member, jutting proudly out from the ruins of his clothes before he surged back over her, dropping his head to nudge her head to the side so he could bury his teeth in her neck.

Distracted by this sharp sensation, she did not tense in preparation for the pain she assumed would come from penetration. Instead, there was a moment of discomfort alongside the bite, and then he was inside her.

He braced his hands on either side of her head, his hips rutting against her as he thrust, unable to hold himself back from her. Belle answered in kind, not certain what to do, wanting to close her eyes and slip into the waves of sensation slipping over her but not wanting to miss the myriad of expressions crossing his face.

For a moment, his eyes were closed as he reveled in their joining but he felt her gaze upon his face and his eyes opened. Belle did not have to guess what he saw in her own face for his eyes grew possessive and he started to thrust harder.

Belle dug her nails into his shoulder as he went deeper and faster. He was not holding back and she wordlessly encouraged him. He twisted his hips, angling deeper and with every rock, he brushed against a spot deep inside her- driving her further and further past reason until thunder crashed around them and Belle crashed with it.

He drove forward as she convulsed around him. He cried her name as he shuddered and then his arms were around her, holding her to him.


	24. Chapter 24

They lay there by the fire for a long time. Gold’s head lay on her chest, exhausted and sated. He pressed the occasional kiss to her skin, dewy with sweat, as his hand traced circles against her side where he held her to him.

Belle could not move if she had wanted. As the fire died, she began to shiver slightly. Gold pushed himself to a sitting position and started to tug her garments back into place. Belle swatted him away, able to dress herself, as fear started to replace the contentment. She did not know what would happen now.

As she dressed, he closed the drapes, turned out the single lamp and collected his shirt from where it had been banished. Belle was on her knees when he returned to her, scooping her in his arms to carry her out of the library. Belle chuckled against his bare chest, “I can walk you know,” she told him as he started up the stairs to her room.

“I’ll have to remedy that,” he said, and a little frisson of excitement shot through her. When they got to her room, he laid her on the bed and started to strip her off her clothes. He dropped a kiss to every inch of skin he exposed, but the effect was pleasant and comforting rather than passionate. He lulled her to a state of languidness before he stood and moved to the door.

Belle’s heart ached but she did not call out after him, knowing he needed rest, but to her relief, he merely locked the door and undressed. He joined her in the bed, pulling her to him as if he could not bear to be apart from her for a second.

Only when they were entwined, did they sleep.

\--

Belle awoke to Ruby wrestling with the doorknob. The sun was peeking in through the windows, which meant it was early morning and Ruby was trying to deliver her breakfast tea.

The wrestling stopped as Ruby discovered the door was not stuck but locked. Then, “Oh!”

Footsteps hurried back down the hall. Belle reached out and found Gold reaching back for her. They met in the middle of the bed, twining their fingers together on the pillow between them. “How do you feel this morning?’ she asked him.

“I should be asking you that,” he said as he pressed their joined fingers to his mouth for a kiss. Belle leaned over to replace her hand with her mouth. He rolled over and she followed him until she was leaning over him, her bare breasts inches from his face as they broke apart. He groaned but with an effort, he tugged her back down to lay atop of him. “I’ll send to London for a special license today.’

Belle sat straight up in bed. “License- as in a marriage license?”

He sat up as well, regarding her with a determined expression. “I should think that would be obvious. I told you I had no intention of letting you leave. Husband and wife. Till death do us part.”

“You said- You said-

He arched a brow. “Yes?”

She swatted him. “You swore you would never take another wife-”

He drew her to him until she was seated on his lap. His fingers splayed across her belly. “You might be carrying my child.”

“Might,” Belle said, though she could not help the smile that tugged her lips at his hand started to move upwards to brush against the underside of her breasts.

“Hmm, can’t risk it,” he said with a sigh. “You might be carrying the next Earl of Lonsdale.”

Belle’s pleasant mood was starting to sour. “I don’t want you to have to marry me at all,” she told him as her arms came up to drape around his shoulder. “I am not trying to trap you-”

“I am trying to trap you,” he said, brutally honest. His hand moved up to cup the back of her head as he lowered her back down into the pillow. “I want to keep you in my bed, making those sounds you make-”

“What sounds?”

Instead of telling her, he decided to show her. He began to kiss her, supporting her head against the pillow with one hand as his other started to stroke the side of her breast until she gasped.

“There,” he said as the husky noise faded in favor of a shorter, higher pitched wordless plea. She hadn’t even realized she had been making. “Any special requests for the wedding?”

“I haven’t said yes yet-”

His eyes hardened. “Oh?”

He slid down her body, and Belle protested, thinking he meant to retreat, but he pushed both her legs up until her knees were bent. She squirmed, uncomfortable and uncertain before his lips brushed against the inside of her knee. He kissed upwards until his cheek nestled against her curls. She protested- she thought she protested- but then his mouth was on her and she was arching and begging as hot flashes of light sparked through her brain.

He pulled away and she moaned. “Please- “ she managed which she was rather proud of. “Gold, please-”

“Do you like that?” he asked her as his fingers began to trace over the heated flesh between her thighs. She wiggled against him and he retreated for a moment before returning to graze of her, just enough to drive her wild.

She nodded, feverishly trying to recapture the pleasure he had been sparking.

“Do you want me to keep going?” he asked her, enjoying this damn him.

She nodded again, reaching for him.

“Then, say it,” he instructed.

And it was the way he demanded it, the way he demanded her that made her shiver in anticipation. “Yes,” she gasped and was rewarded with a finger brushing over her to swirl in one, two, three circles around the nub between her legs. “Keep- keep going.”

He retreated and she knew what she had to say next. She moaned as his fingers slipped inside her. He thrust against her, his thumb circling the bundle of nerves until she was pushing back against him, trying to find release.

He pulled his hand free, sliding down until he lay between her legs. She looked down at him, through the haze of desire, and knew what came next. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Robert Gold.”

He gave a wicked smile and then his tongue was against her, drawing her deeper and deeper into the madness of a village schoolmistress agreeing to marry an earl. His hands pushed her thighs further apart until she was open before him and then his tongue was inside her, his nose brushing against her until she broke and shuddered against him, moaning her affirmation over and over again as she rode the waves of release.

He crawled back up to her, kissing her so she could taste herself on his lips.

Three days ago, the mine had been running normally, David had been alive and marriage had been out of the question but everything had changed. There would only ever been life before the accident and life after.

He had made his decision while down in the mine. He would marry Belle, and she would be his. He would do everything in his power to make a home for her, to make Avonlea a home for others. It was a selfish bargain of a desperate man, but as she kissed him, he could not find it within him to care.

He had taken her roughly last night, too caught up in his own pain and need. He intended to remedy that this morning. Her hair spread across the pillow as he positioned himself between her thighs as they kissed, languid and slow. He pulled back, just as he brushed his arousal against the tiny nub he had been paying homage to just before.

Belle winced at the sensation but then relaxed as he drew her nipple into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth until she was wiggling against him, trying to seek release once more. He slid over her again and her eyes widened.

He laid down upon her, careful to keep his weight on his elbows as his tongue traced patterns on her skin, his hands roaming over her side as she whimpered with every soft thrust he made against her belly.

When she was muttering words of nonsense, he leaned upon his elbows to make longer strokes against her, and god, she was so wet he could caress her with the full length of his shaft from base to head and back again.

Her hands clamped on his arm, nails biting deep as she tossed her head back. He leaned down to kiss her there, to ease the pace to draw forth one more orgasm from her but he pulled back too far and then he was pressing into her.

He froze, knowing he should retreat, to continue teasing her to completion but she pressed upwards and enveloped him to the base of his shaft.

He was lost. All hopes to take this slowly, to pleasure her only, were lost as she encouraged him deeper. He drew out almost entirely, then thrust home, her head bouncing as he thrust her back further and further into the pillows. She urged him on with her hands, her nails, her eyes, her mouth and when she cried out, he stopped holding back. With four sharp thrusts that elicited answering cries from her, he groaned as the tension in his stomach snapped and he poured himself into her.

He knew she would be bruised and sore. They were both trembling but neither moved, neither spoke until their breathing returned to normal. She twined his hair around her finger. “I feel married,” she confessed.

“Good,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll be joining you every night from now on. Though since we’ll be living in the valley for the rest of our lives, I would hate for anyone to think I’ve debased you. We’ll be discreet until the wedding.”

With that, he slipped out of her embrace and out of the bed. “I’ll send a note to Victor to ask him to fetch us a special license from the Doctor’s Commons. He’s rather good at securing those kinds of things. We should be able to have the ceremony in about a week.”

Belle didn’t really hear this last part, too dazed still, to note anything beyond watching him dress. He threw a smile at her as he slipped on his breeches, and she smiled back.


	25. Chapter 25

By mid-morning, they were both back in the library. Belle had to make a conscious effort not to stare at the spot where they had made love last night, but Gold kept looking up at her from his papers with a knowing smile.

They were no doubt very close to having a repeat performance despite what they had said earlier about discretion when Dove entered with Emma, panting as if she had just run all the way from the village. “Miss French! Papa is alive!”

Belle had been getting to her feet, but at this, she collapsed back into her chair. Gold scrambled over to the young girl. “Truly?”

Emma beamed up at him. “They found him this morning! Mama sent me to tell you-”

“Dove order the curricle. Emma can tell us the story while we ride to the village.”

And so she did. As Gold drove (recklessly fast), Emma told them the story. The explosion had apparently blown David backward into one of the old tunnels, breaking his leg. He had remained unconscious for an undetermined length of time before he woke up in the darkness. From there, he discovered he was near one of the drainage tunnels and dug his way through a roof collapse to reach it.

Thankfully, the explosion had dropped the water level so there was air. He had crawled out last night and a shepherd had found him this morning. They reached the Nolan cottage faster than Belle could have thought possible.

Mary Margaret met them at the door. There were circles under her eyes but joy radiated off her in waves as she threw herself into Belle’s arms. They both began to cry, and only after a few moments did they part.

They spoke low, so not to wake David, as they had tea and currant buns. There was more good news, two more men were found alive in an air pocket. “Lord Jones isn’t all satisfied with what he’s found,” Mary Margaret told them. “He’s ordered a new steam pump and a winding engine-”

Belle and Gold exchanged glances. “And Gaston?” Gold asked.

If Gaston had been around to see Mary Margaret's smile, he would have run for the hills. “His lordship hasn’t said a word against Gaston in public, but he’s made it clear that Gaston is now only an overseer.”

“And how’s Gaston taking all this?”

Mary Margaret waved a hand. “Furious. But he can’t complain or he’d risk losing his salary and house.”

“Gold?” came a voice from upstairs. Mary Margaret shot up but Gold waved her back down. He headed upstairs to the tiny room at the front of the house, barely larger than the double bed it held. David was pale, his left leg splinted but he raised his hand as Gold slipped in the room.

Gold clasped it hard and sank down beside the bed. “You have the devil’s luck, David Nolan.”

“I could only guess I got it from you,” he said back with a grin tugging his lips.

Gold grew somber. “Why?” he said, gesturing to the shadow of the bruise still lingering on his jaw. “You have a family. Why not just go first?”

“I knew the mines well enough to hope if I survived the collapse I could get out,” Davis said with startling practicality. “And I did. Also, because Mary Margaret is pregnant and if its a boy…” he stopped and took a deep fortifying breath. “I could never hope to make lasting changes. But you...you could.”

And he would by God. “Then you’ll have to focus your attention on getting back on your feet in time to attend my and Belle’s wedding.”

David grinned, completely nonplussed. “Only if I can give her away.”

  
\--

They decided upon a small ceremony at Askham. With the loss of over thirty-five men in the village, they did not think there was cause for any celebration in Avonlea.

Belle spent most of her time attending funerals in the village. She met with widows or families whose husbands had been gravely injured and spoke with them about the future. Gold had set up a contribution fund for Avonlea, and it took considerable time talking with the villagers to convince them that it was not charity or a handout, but a hand up.

Word of her engagement spread and some did sneer at her in the street or make snide comments but most everyone else cared too much about their own lives to care about her own.

Two days before her wedding, Dove met her at the door when she returned from the village. “Lord Anders is in the drawing room.”

Belle removed her bonnet. She had been out of the house since early morning and it was nearly dinner. “How long has he been-”

“Two hours,” Dove said, indicating how he felt about a lord lingering in his home. “And Lord Gold has yet to return from Swansea.”

Belle made her apologies to Dove before she entered the drawing room. It was a long way to come from London just for a wedding, especially one where an earl married a commoner. She should not have been surprised to find Victor relaxed on the couch with a book and a tea tray. “Victor,” she said he rose to kiss her on the cheek. “I didn’t expect you.”

He brandished an envelope in explanation. “I decided to deliver the special license in person.” He gave her a wry smile. “Jefferson couldn’t make it...a bill he’s been working on has come up for a vote.”

It was their way of accepting her union with Gold. Not that she needed their approval but she welcomed it anyway. “That’s very kind of you but I’m afraid I’ve made you wait for far too long,” she apologized. “How about a walk in the gardens to stretch your legs while we wait for Lord Gold to return home?”

It was a perfect May afternoon so they adjourned outside. Victor took her hand and in a perfect pantomime of Gold, tucked it in the crook of his elbow. They strolled down the garden path, discussing Jefferson’s latest ball and how London was dimmer for her absence. Belle made few forays into the topic of medicine, curious as to Victor’s background but he dodged them all easily.

They wandered over to the rockery, following the twisting path. Belle had hired on three additional assistants for the gardener and the yard was improving by the day. “I haven’t been here for nearly ten years,” Victor said as they walked. “Not since Robert first came home from Oxford.”

“You met his father?” Belle said, unable to resist. “What was he like?”

Victor shook his head. “His father was a difficult man, the type that never learned how to accept age and limitations. When his first wife finally died, he married a young woman younger than his daughter-in-law.”

Belle remembered all too well how Regina had felt about the marriage. And the next questions came out of her mouth before she could think better of it, “How well did you know Gold’s first wife?”

Too late, Victor sensed her trap. He paused, tossing a glance back at the house in the far distance. He glanced back at her with a shake of his head. “I shouldn’t say.”

“But you will.”

He wavered. “Milah was very beautiful.”

Belle had already known that. “I meant-”

“And very aware of it,” Victor added. Belle gave him an apologetic grin and motioned for him to continue. “She was vibrant and alive- and I never liked her. For all her fire, there was no warmth to her...but I was one of the few that didn’t fall under her spell.”

“Like Gold,” Belle said softly, unable to help but picture what Gold must have been like as a young man in love.

Victor shook his head. “It was an arranged marriage,” he said as they turned back to the house. “A bastard in line to inherit is still a bastard. The whole of society was surprised when Milah’s family agreed to the match.”

Belle had not known at all. “But I thought-”

“Oh, Robert liked her well enough,” Victor said. “At first. He agreed to marry her, and why not? She was beautiful and intelligent and could carry a conversation,” here, Victor looked pointedly at her. “But after a few months...something went wrong. Gold sent Milah back here to Askham and stayed in London alone. He refused to say a word to any of us, and indulged in some of the least gentlemanly behavior I’ve ever seen him partake in.”

“When was this?”

“Five years ago,” he said with a shake of his head. “He came back here...and then...within a year, Milah was dead and so was his father. Robert didn’t even send word…’

Belle mulled all this over as Victor steered her back to the safety of the house. Overhead, it was growing dark and the threat of rain was in the air. She pulled herself out of her own thoughts on Milah, long enough to say, “Did you know Lord Jones is living back at Bryn Manor?”

At this, Victor stopped dead. “I hadn’t heard. Has there been an issue?”

Belle shouldn’t but she couldn’t resist confiding in Lord Anders. As one of Gold’s oldest friends, perhaps he should know. “We went out riding right after Lord Jones returned and a bullet almost struck Gold. He insisted it was a poacher…”

“But you aren’t so sure,” Victor finished for her. “Has there been anything else?”

Belle shook her head and filled him in on the explosion at the mine. Victor’s eyes widened considerably when he heard Gold had nearly died as well but let her finish without peppering her with questions.

When she had finished, he stroked his chin in thought. “So, Jones has decided to take steps to improve the mine?”

It was bad-natured to say anything but yes, so Belle did. “From all reports, yes, he’s been making efforts to put things to right.”

Victor relaxed. “War has a funny effect on people,” he said with a shake of his head. “But it sounds as if Jones is seeing to his business interests. The proximity complicates matters but it may also help resolve them. Eventually. “ He added at the dark look that crossed Belle’s face.

“You have a rather positive outlook,” Belle muttered. “I wish I could share your optimism.”

To her surprise, Victor laughed. “If Jones wanted to kill Robert, he would march up to the front door.”

“I still don’t like him being back in the valley,” Belle remarked just as Gold appeared on the patio. He surveyed the garden and Belle’s heart fluttered a bit as she realized he was looking for them. Victor patted her hand. “Your fiancé is missing you,” he said with a wry grin. “I’ve monopolized you long enough.”

As Gold greeted his friend, Belle excused herself to go fetch a spot of tea from the kitchens and organize her thoughts. It was growing apparent that for whatever his issue with Gold, Lord Killian Jones was intent on improving the mine. Perhaps if he spent enough time and energy on that, he would forget his vendetta.


	26. Chapter 26

Belle French became Belle Gold, Countess of Lonsdale two days later.

David gave her away, wobbling down the aisle on crutches. Mary Margaret and Victor stood at the altar but Belle only had eyes for Gold, resplendent with the sun shining down on his head, illuminating the silver strands and the amber in his eyes. He was a treasure and he was hers.

She could not say much about the ceremony or the following traditional wedding breakfast. Victor could not stay after the wedding breakfast due to urgent matters in London requiring his attention.

The newlywed couple saw Lord Anders to the door to say their goodbyes. Belle hugged him and after he promised to thank Jefferson for the wedding gift (a rather odd antique spinning wheel that Belle despaired of ever finding the right room for) they watched him depart in his carriage.

“Well, shall we return to the festivities?” Belle asked her husband, curling her ringed hand around his own. They had invited the entire village, and the whole staff had been given the afternoon off to spend at the wedding breakfast for as long as they wished.

Gold’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “You haven’t seen my wedding gift yet.”

He led her to the billiard room, to reveal a brand new table. Belle hurried over to it, running her hands over the flat green surface. “Slate?” she guessed as she turned back to him with an exuberant grin.

He nodded. “Our quarry is going to start the newest fashion.” He leaned over to shove at the table which didn’t budge an inch. “It took fourteen men to move into the house. I despaired of you discovering us in the very act of moving it in here.”

“No more accidental jostling,” Belle mused as she ducked under the table to see the reinforced legs and frame. She straightened and her grin turned meaningful. “Shall we test it out?”

Gold’s eyes widened in delight as Belle hopped up on the table, making it clear she was not talking about a game of pool. She hiked up the creamy gold skirt of her wedding dress to flash her ankles and then very deliberately kicked off her slipper. Then, the other-

Gold pounced before she could undo her second stocking. She hopped off the table to help him with his coat and then undressed each other without a word. They had been together countless times since the first, the hayloft in the barn, the gardens, both of their rooms- but this was their wedding day and there was something different about this time.

Gold twisted her around to undo her dress before he began to struggle with her stays. He blamed it on the three glasses of champagne as Belle wiggled impatiently. When they finally fell away, Belle pushed her back up against his front and his hands clasped around her hips, drawing up her shift inch by inch.

Belle busied her own hands but pulling at the fabric of his drawers, it was a bit awkward as she could not see him but she used her hands to feel her way down his body and his answering groan was encouraging. As the fabric slipped down his legs and her own shift was pulled over her head, Belle stepped away from him to hop back up on the table.

His eyes were black as pitch as she slowly raised her hand up to pull the pins from her hair. Ruby had spent hours in the early morning arranging the curls just so and in seconds, it cascaded down her shoulders and breasts.

Gold snapped into action, sweeping her back across the flat, cool baize surface covering the slate. They knew each other’s bodies well now, and Gold took care to elicit the full range of sounds from her, alternating between tender in one moment, playful in another and then fierce and unrelenting as he buried himself in her and brought them both to the brink.

They laid on the pool table after, as he played with her curls, dragging them back and forth across her nipples as he propped up on his elbow over her. Belle gazed up at him and could not bear to say what was in her heart. She lifted her hand to cup his face and as his eyes met her gaze, soft and golden after their lovemaking, she could not help it. “I love you,” she murmured.

He stiffened. For a moment, he did not move a muscle. It was an agonizing minute before his hand began to trace circles into her side but he had gone away, withdrawn into himself.

Belle watched him for a moment before she sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Belle’s stomach was hollow and her heart was clenched in a vise in her chest but she did not dare break eye contact. She did not shrink away from him, waiting for him to speak or to flee.

“It has been my experience, that when someone tells you they love me, they have a reason or an ulterior motive. Everyone who ever said they love me has betrayed me.”

“Forget I said anything then,” Belle said, forcing her voice to be light. He did not say she could not love him. But for his sake, she would not utter those words again.

“I trust you,” he said and his voice was desperate as his eyes searched hers. “More than anyone.”

Belle smiled up at him and drew his face down to hers for another kiss. It was a strange kiss, full of yearning and unspoken things. Tomorrow they would leave on their honeymoon to Northwest Wales, and after that who knew what the future would bring.

\--

They left Askham the next day. Belle had been determined to ride Chip, so they had loaded up the pony with some bags and then the Dark One had been tasked with the rest. The stallion had not appreciated the additional weight but it was worth it to see Belle’s smile as she chatted with Chip about the weather.

They slept underneath the stars the first night. An odd thing for a lord and his lady, but he didn’t much mind as Belle pointed out the various constellations to him as he held her in his arms. They stopped long enough to make love twice until Belle finally drifted off to sleep.

For whatever reason, sleep eluded him so he contented himself with listening to Belle’s breathing. This was worlds different from his honeymoon in London. Milah had insisted on going out until dawn every night, both of them too tired and drunk to do much more than fall into bed to sleep away the day until dinner the next night.

Belle was the polar opposite of Milah. Warm and inviting, smart and clever, loyal to a fault-

And she loved him.

It was an odd thing to know.

\--

Belle had never been happier.

The countryside was rich with colors and sounds, the weather warm and pleasant and every new sight was an adventure. She stopped often to look closer at the flora and fauna, waddled into the creeks and streams and even climbed a tree to get a better view of the valley they had just passed through.

Gold relaxed out here as well, opening up to her and laughing more than he usually did. The open air did them both good, their skin growing darker as their spirits lightened.

The weather turned in the next few days. Fitful showers fluttered over Wales in the morning, and then rain fell in a torrential downpour in the afternoon. Their cloaks were saturated with water as they moved along, both Welsh enough to embrace the weather’s challenges without complaint through it did dampen the day.

“There should be a travelers’ rest up ahead,” he called out as the afternoon started to change to dusk. “Shall we stop for the night?”

“Absolutely,” Belle declared in such a determined voice that Gold began to laugh.

Tucked off the road, a frame hut was hidden in a grove of tall trees. It was two stories high, solidly built for being out so far and even had a barn for the horses. It was simply furnished with a table and some chairs. Belle guessed there would be a bed upstairs.

Gold followed her inside quickly, shedding his cloak. It fell to the floor with a loud plop as he started to make a fire from the wood from the shed. When he was certain the fire he had caught, he pressed a kiss to her lips and went out to bed down the horses for the night in the barn next door.

When he returned, Belle had already stripped out of her wet clothes to let them dry by the fire. He groaned in appreciation at the sight, falling into his chair to tug off his boots. “How did you know this was here?” Belle asked. “And why is it here?”

“I grew up not far from here before I came to live with my grandfather.” Before Belle could pry into this surprising news, he gestured to the storm outside. “The tale is a merchant was caught in the mountains by a blizzard and would have perished if a local shepherd had not taken him in. In gratitude, the merchant built a shelter for travelers here and there along the path. Local parishes were given endowments to care for it, including checking on it in the spring to make sure winter had not damaged it too badly.”

“Practical,” Belle said approvingly. “We’ll replace the wood before we leave tomorrow. In the meantime…”Gold chuckled as she drew him out of his chair. “We should get you out of those wet clothes.”

And so she did. Afterward, they dozed for a bit by the fire before their stomachs began to protest from hunger. Belle threw together a simple supper from their supplies. Afterward, they had tea, curling up naked before the fire, her head on his shoulder as they stared into the flames cradling their cups.

In just sitting there, together in silence in the country, neither of them could remember ever being quite this happy.

But it was not too last.


	27. Chapter 27

Gold nuzzled closer to his wife, hand drifting down her side as she slept peacefully beside him. He wanted her but did not want to wake her so he satisfied himself with knowing she was his now. The wedding band on his finger glistened in the lamplight.

The sound of footsteps in the hall called his attention away from the curve of her lips. He straightened; it was much too late in the evening for Dove to call upon them and the footsteps were growing louder and more determined.

He was straightening when the door flung open and a shadow appeared in the doorway. A long rapier was pointed at the bed, wielded by the darkness. He jumped out of bed, grabbing his own sword as Killian Jones stepped into the light.

“You thought you deserved a happily ever after?” Jones sneered; his hook as wickedly sharp as the rapier. “You think you’re man enough to protect her?”

Gold could not find his voice. He straightened his arm, pointing his blade at Jones, prepared to fight to the death. He was not ready to leave this world. Not now.

“Gold?” Belle murmured sleepily from the bed. “What is it?”

Jones sneered. “Tell her the truth, Gold. Go on, tell her the truth about who you truly are.”

Gold shook his head, but his voice would not come.

“Gold, please,” Belle was saying and then Jones struck and his world went black.

Gold had not been plagued with nightmares for as long as he could remember, so he was not surprised when he jerked awake in the still of the night. They were not abed in Askham Hall but in the traveler’s hut in Northern Wales. They were not in a bed but Belle was asleep beside him in front of the fire, which was small and banked and contained in the hearth. Outside, it had stopped raining.

But something had woken him. A sense... something was burning, a strong, pungent smell and the crackling of flames grew louder. He sat up and noticed a glow in the window opposite the fireplace. Belle murmured in her sleep, reaching out for him. He clasped her hand in his, squeezing tight. “Belle, wake up,” he murmured, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. “There’s a fire.”

Blue eyes blinked open, but he did not get the chance to linger at her side to enjoy it. He stood, dressing quickly as he watched the flames progression in the window. The flames were far off enough from the front door that they would be able to make it out and to the barn.

Belle rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, stretching as she got to her feet. Her nightgown had served as an impromptu pillow instead of its intended purpose and her skin glistened and glowed where the firelight from behind illuminated her curves while shadows darkened the valley between her breasts and the curve of her inner thighs-

The nightgown descended down her form as Belle pulled it on over her head. “Whatever could be burning?” Belle asked, voice husky in sleepy annoyance as she sat down to pull on her boots.

Gold shook his head. “Probably sparks from the chimney. Best take your cloak,” he said, nodding towards where it had served as their bed for the evening.

“How would sparks ignite in all this rain?” Belle picked up her cloak on her way to the door. Gold grabbed the saddlebags with their valuables, casting one last look around the hut to make sure they hadn’t left anything. “Poor Chip,” Belle said as she fiddled with the latch on the door. “He’s probably beside himself-”

Almost too late, Gold realized the horses weren’t screaming. Belle swung the door open and the sounds of the night flooded into the hut. Out in the distance, something shifted in the shadows.

He did not hesitate. Dropping the saddlebag, he launched himself at Belle and dragged her down to the floor as a rifle fired. His knee hit the floor first and exploded in agony, but they were still illuminated in the open doorway, so he rolled them until they were out of sight.

Belle struggled out of his protective embrace to lean over and kick the front door shut just as three more bullets embedded themselves into it. “Someone’s trying to kill us!” she whispered furiously, hair akimbo as she tried to lift herself up to peer out the window.

Gold pulled her back down just as a bullet pierced the window. “Stay down,” he hissed at her as the pain in his knee throbbed up his spine. It was a helpful pain, as it was distracting him from an otherwise certain paralyzing fear of what might happen. They were in a wooden building and it was growing apparent that there were two fires on either side of the hut. The silence of the horses meant that their assailants had already secured their only mode of escape-

“Belle!”

His wife had crawled across the floor to the other window. He tried to stand to go to her, but the movement caused another bullet to crash through the glass over his head. He brushed off the glass as Belle motioned for him to stay down. “There’s five of them,” she mouthed, holding up five fingers.

Gold cursed and crouching, he moved to where he had dropped the saddlebag to load the lone pistol he had brought along.

“They have the horses,” Belle murmured from her vantage point.

“Stay down!”

“They can’t see me from here-”

A bullet pierced the pane just to the left of her and Belle dropped down to the floor with a muffled shriek. Gold lifted his pistol and stepped to the shattered window. A man had separated from the others, a rifle aimed at the hut as he stalked forward.

Gold fired and the man fell to the earth with a muffled shout. Gold reloaded the pistol, but the other figures did not move from the safe distance “Are you okay?” he asked, not daring to look down.

“Fine,” Belle said, sounding far from it.

Outside, a few figures peeled away from the treeline but they kept a careful distance from the house. Gold was a decent shot but far from proficient and in the dark, he didn’t dare risk wasting ammunition. He doubted they were highwaymen. This was a planned attack, not one of convenience. It was growing smoky and as his eyes started to water Gold lowered his pistols.

“We should go out the back window,” Belle suggested as she got back up to her feet in a crouch. She started to cough as she gestured to the rear window of the hut.

Gold held up his hand to still her. He watched as twin figures disappeared one to the left and the other to the right before they were lost to the smoke of the rapidly growing fire. “They’re flanking us,” he muttered. The crackling grew louder and the smoke grew dense.

“Then, we go up,” Belle decided. She didn’t wait for him to agree but went straight to her baggage. After a second of rummaging, she unearthed a slip. For a moment he thought she was planning to dress but she simply ripped it half and dunked both pieces into the pot of water that they had brought in for the morning. “Put it over your mouth,” she instructed as she tossed it to him.

The smoke had grown so dense they were both coughing as they raced up the stairs. The smoke was thicker here, curling in the eaves of the second floor. If not for the damp rag still faintly smelling of Belle, they would have succumbed to the smoke within seconds. As for the heat-

Belle’s forehead was glistening with sweat as she turned and surveyed their surroundings. old was on the verge of pulling her back downstairs and trying to shoot their way out when Belle surged towards a casement window on the side of the house.

He shouted out her name but it was lost in the heat and smoke. He could only stumble after her, pulling her away from the window before someone saw her there. “No one’s there,” she shouted over the flames that were starting to lick up the outside wall just below their feet. She pointed at a nearby tree which towered over the house- it’s lowest branches as tall as the house itself-

He had married the bravest woman in all of Wales. He turned to her, and she nodded. “We can’t stay here. If you boost me up to the roof, we can get into the tree.”

The tree spanned the back of the house all the way to the back of the barn. The smoke was thick enough where it was entirely possible no one from the ground would notice them shimmying across rooftops.

In the end, it was not much of a choice as putting faith in Belle. If they stayed here they would either be burned alive or shot dead. With a grim twist of his lips, Gold straddled the window frame, trying to ignore the searing heat and the blinding smoke. His knee throbbed in protest but he ignored it, clutching Belle’s hand in his own until her wedding ring bit into his palm.

Belle climbed between his legs, lips clamped together in determination. As he held her legs steady, she straightened until her body was outside the window and she could reach up to the lip of the roof. They didn’t dare shout but she wiggled her left foot and he boosted her up until she was safely on the roof.

It was his turn now. Ignoring the pain in his leg, he carefully followed Belle’s lead until he was balanced precariously on the sill of the window. He grabbed hold of the roof and without hesitation, pulled himself up.

Too late he realized the roof was still slick from the rain. His grip faltered as his fingers slipped across the wet slate. He was moments from falling to his death when Belle’s fingers wrapped around his wrist and held him steady. For a terrifying moment, he could picture her falling into the flames below with him- but to his surprise, they both jerked to a stop. Through the smoke and the garish light of the flickering flames, he could see Belle had anchored herself to a ridgepole before grabbing for him.

He pulled himself up onto the slanting roof and peered down at the scene below. The fire was burning away, warping and consuming the hut below them which meant they were not out of the woods yet. Their attackers were nowhere to be seen, having probably retreated a safe distance from the spreading flames and thinking their quarry defeated from the smoke and heat.

They made their way across the rooftop to the edge of the tree. They’d have to straighten, risking exposing themselves to the men below. It would be a leap of faith in more ways than one. The slate was quickly growing too hot for comfort. “You go first,” he told her. “That branch is strong enough to support you, get to the trunk and step to the next branch and I’ll follow.”

“But-”

He leaned over and kissed her, cupping her face with his soot-streaked palm. He had thought they would have time-but they might not. He could only hope she knew...that she could sense-

Belle broke the kiss. Without a backward glance, she straightened and flung herself into the air. His heart stopped entirely until the leaves of the tree swayed and rustled, barely distinguishable over the loud cracking noise that was coming from his feet.

The hut was collapsing. There were masculine shouts as their assailants warned each other to stay back. Gold lingered as long as he dared before he too straightened and leaped. He was airborne for a heartbeat before his ribs crashed into the bulk of a branch which sagged beneath his momentum. He twisted until he could swing his leg over the branch and looked up to find Belle perched in a nearby branch, her hand clutched to her mouth as if to hold back her scream.

Behind them, a great beast roared. He swiveled to find the roof collapsing, flames and sparks shooting to the stars as a heat wave washed over them. He scooted towards the trunk of the tree, Belle reaching out to help him to his feet. She didn’t miss his wince as he put weight on his knee but she didn’t comment.

With a finger to her lips, she pointed down at a man who was washed in the light of the raging flames. He had been waiting at the back of the house, a rifle in his hand in case they had come out of the back window but he had not looked up.

When he was satisfied no one would emerge from the fire alive, the man lowered his rifle and went around to return to his companions. They were high enough, and the hut was gone, so they both could see a tall figure- one blurred by smoke and flame but the only one who did not carry a gun.

Belle looked to him. “Jones?”

 

He shook his head. They were too far away from him to be able to tell for certain and they had a window while their attackers watched the hut burn into ashes. He gestured for Belle to keep moving and with one last cold glare, she moved across the branch until she could reach out to the barn roof. She clambered down onto it and he followed suit.

The barn had a cupola and Belle pulled it open. It was a tight fit but they were both able to shimmy down into the hayloft below. The barn was quiet, stale, warm air from the fire lingering in the dark depths.

They silently made their way down and then out the back of the barn. Belle’s cloak whipped across her ankles as she led the way into the darkness, just as she had led them to safety. Gold followed after her, tossing looks behind him every few feet to make sure no one had followed them. They were on foot, and the others had horses. They wouldn’t have a prayer.

As it was, the ground was muddy from the rain and Belle’s boots sucked and plopped along, loud in the otherwise silent evening. The chill of the storm elicited shivers after the heat of the fire, and he was grateful Belle had her cloak as she was otherwise only clad in her nightgown.

“Hey,” he called out softly. “We should head to the east. Aberystwyth isn’t far from here-”

“We almost died.” Belle stopped short, shaking her head. “We still could-”

He drew her into his arms and she went willingly. He did not comment on her trembling in his arms, but held her tighter, not knowing if it was from fear or cold but guessing it to be both. “We’re safe here,” he assured her. The men would no doubt search the ashes for their bodies but they wouldn’t be able to do that before dawn at the earliest. They had a few hours and it was no coincidence that Gold had known exactly where the hut had been in this otherwise empty countryside.

“Are we close to the town you mentioned?” Belle asked as she laid her head upon his shoulder. “The one who takes care of the hut? We should tell them…”

“Aberystwyth is close,” he said, pressing a kiss to her hair. It reeked of smoke and had ash crumbled in it but he didn’t care. “We’ll go to Aberystwyth.”

\--  
They walked for hours. It was numbing, trudging through the forest but Gold’s hand was in her’s and they were both alive. She didn’t comment on Gold’s increasingly pronounced limp. He pressed onwards in the darkness into the early hours of dawn, as if drawn like a beacon to a distant shore.

Just as they broke out of the trees, dawn’s early light came creeping out from the storm clouds still lingering on the horizon. A small coastal village was revealed to them inch by inch as the sun dragged her rays across its sleepy facade. “Welcome to Aberystwyth,” Gold said, and his voice was fond and warm despite their long, perilous flight through the woods. “Welcome to my childhood home.”

They made their way to the edge of the village just as people began to emerge into their daily routines. They were the subject of not a few pointed glances, mostly at the nightgown hem poking out from under her cloak and the dirt and soot streaking over every inch of their exposed skin.

“Up the bluff,” Gold whispered as he stepped in between her and the curious looks. Belle was more than a little relieved to escape the townspeople’s frank looks of curiosity and followed after him without comment.

The sea air washed over them as they climbed higher and higher into the cliffs of Aberystwyth. Though nearly faint with exhaustion after their near brush with death, the bright sunlight of a late spring morning coupled with the fresh sea breeze pushed her forward as did her curiosity at seeing the place her husband had grown up before he had come to Avonlea.

Gold loved this place. She could tell by the way he did not hesitate at the crossroads, and how he smiled to himself as he stopped to let her catch up with him, gazing out at the waves crashing into the bluffs below.

At one point, he took her hand in his, his thumb circling over the wedding band on her finger with a warm, fond, distracted smile on his face. “Almost there,” he assured her as Belle tried and failed to stifle a yawn.

“Where is there?”

Gold lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to the back of her knuckles. “The only home I knew before I knew you,” he murmured. Belle’s heart clenched but he was already walking again, leading her behind him as they climbed further and further into the sky.

He was right. It was not long until a small fence appeared alongside the path. It stretched away from the rocky path, and Gold followed it until they arrived at another, smaller path that was bordered by small wildflowers on either side. Gold’s steps quickened until they arrived at a gate.

Behind it, lay a small symmetrical two-story building with a stucco front. The roof was slate with a brick chimney with small puffs of smoke emitting as someone inside finished their breakfast. The windows were glistening in the morning sun, spotless and with the shutters thrown open to invite in the day.

Gold hesitated. Belle looked between him and the inviting cottage. “What is it?” she murmured, reaching out to touch his cheek.

“Robbie!”

They whirled around to find a short squat woman had appeared on the path behind them, having come from the sea bluffs to the west. She had a thin nose offset by a large mouth with clothes neatly tailored to her lanky figure. “Auntie Lyndsay,” Gold said, shoulders sagging in relief.

The woman uttered a small noise of joy before she flung herself upon Gold, tears leaking out of her eyes. It was only when the smell of smoke and sweat broke through her tears of joy did she pull back to inspect him with a keen eye. “What have you been up to?” she demanded as she took him in. “You look as if you fell into a fire!”

“You see-”

But that was not all that Aunt Lyndsay had noticed. She gazed at Belle, though her eyes were not on her singed cloak or nightgown hem. She was staring at the ring on her finger, and more tears were leaking from her eyes. “And who is this?” she asked over Gold’s attempt to explain their disarray.

“Belle Gold,” Belle answered for herself, stepping forward to clutch the older woman’s outstretched hands.

“My wife,” Gold confirmed.

“Oh,” Lyndsay said, sniffling as she hurriedly wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Oh.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Belle offered.

“Lyn, is that you?” called out a voice from the house. A tall, brunette appeared in the doorway, peering out in annoyance. “Who is-”

Her words stopped dead as she took in the two people standing at her gate. “Hungry, are you?” she grumbled, taking them to be beggars. “Well, best come in. I have some burned bacon you can have.”

“Glynis!” Lindsay called, pulling Belle through the gate behind her. “Robbie has brought his bride!”

Glynis took out into the sunlight as Gold closed and latched the gate behind them. She had a long expressive face but her eyes were clouded and looked past the three of them. “No,” Glynis murmured as she shook her head. “Can’t be. Our wee Robbie is a lord now.”

“Auntie Glynis,” Gold murmured as he bent down to press a kiss to her upturned cheek.

The woman’s knuckles were swollen with arthritis as she reached out a gnarled hand to cup his chin. She twisted his face first one way and then the other before she huffed. “Doesn’t look a thing like our Robbie..”

Lyndsay huffed. “As if you can see anything,” she chastised. “I’d recognize those eyes anywhere, Fiona’s eyes. Though you’ve grown to be the spitting image of your father.”

Glynis has turned her attention to Belle. Lyndsay nudged her forward and Belle went willingly. “I apologize for our state,” Belle said as she gestured helplessly to herself just as another yawn cracked open her jaw.

Glynis sniffed the air. “Hardly ripe,” she decided, reaching out blindly to push Belle into the house. “A nap and then a bath, I think.”

Behind her, Gold was lingering outside the home, talking in a low voice to his other aunt. Belle did not see any family resemblance between the three of them, but as she stepped into the warm, cozy cottage, and was led up to a quilted bed, she didn’t care much to ask.

Glynis helped her out of her wet cloak and peeled off her boots, tsking over the muddy hem of her nightgown. “Here,” she said, going to the dresser and unearthing a gown much too long for Belle’s petite frame. “This is past saving,” she said as she started to bodily strip Belle’s nightdress from her shoulders.

Belle did not argue, happy to let someone else take control. In a few minutes, she was tucked in the bed, blankets pulled up to her chin. She was sleep before Glynis has made it back downstairs.


	28. Chapter 28

When she woke, Gold’s arm was draped over her. He too had been divested of his clothes and was nestled against her, naked as the day he was born. He smelled of salt and sea, all soot and dirt gone. He must have washed while she slept. She snuggled closer to him to breathe him in. Below them, the cottage was quiet.

“They went out to the market to see about clothes,” Gold murmured, not asleep after all. He pulled her tight against him until they were flush together.

“None of that,” Belle said as she wiggled away from his exploring grip. She blushed to think of what woman would have marital relations in someone else's bed, especially a bed of two spinster sisters-

“Oh, they wouldn’t mind,” Gold said but he respected her wishes. His grip loosened, inviting her to twist to lay her head upon his chest to gaze up at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” she said honestly, all too aware of the various bruises from their twilight march. “But I’m fine. You?”

His mouth was set in a tight grimace. “You could have been killed,” he answered, ignoring her question entirely.

“I did tell you I wanted adventure,” Belle said. “How many brides can boast of such a honeymoon?”

“Belle...”

She sat up, the too large nightgown slipping off her shoulder. All jokes aside, she could not imagine what it would be like for him to know someone was hell-bent on killing him and did not care who got hurt along the way. She opted for practicality, knowing her sympathy would not be wanted. “What should we do?”

“Aberystwyth is a market town. Someone will be heading back south with their wares. We’ll go with them. Safety in numbers. Once we’re home, I’ll see if I can make inquiries about men selling horses. The Dark One is too noticeable for them to keep. He’ll fetch them a good price. Anyone they approach will remember them.”

“A man with a hook for a hand will be memorable enough on his own,” Belle added. Belle did not think Lord Jones dense enough to do his own dirty work until she had seen him out last night, training a rifle on them in the darkness. Gold did not respond, so Belle changed the subject. “Tell me about your aunts.”

He thought for a moment. “They’re not really my aunts, not by blood. When I was young...we lived in a small cottage on the other side of the city but Lyndsay and Glynis sold their threads and fabrics in the market and my mother would leave me with them while she shopped. They were the closest thing to a family we had.”

Knowing his mother to be a sore subject, Belle did not respond but let him continue, biting her tongue against her myriad of questions. “I didn’t know if they still lived here,” he confessed with a guilty grin down at her. “But I knew they were happy here...and I hoped-”

Voices floated up to them from outside as the cottage owners came up the path. Belle pressed a kiss to Gold’s forehead before she scooted out of bed. She hurried down the stairs, her hem in her hand so she would not trip on it. She threw open the door just as Glynis was reaching for the handle. “Here let me,” Belle said as she reached for the bags in her hands.

Glynis moved them out of reach. “Oh no you don’t,” she decided. “You need a bath.”

“I’ll take her to the shore,” Lyndsay volunteered. “You see to Lord Robbie.”

Glynis muttered darkly but she waved the two of them away. As they walked down to the other side of the cliffs to the seashore path, Lyndsay showed Belle the clothes she had gotten down at the village. “We had to guess at your size,” she admitted. “But I must say, we’re rather good at that sort of thing.”

The sea was freezing and Belle’s skin was blue by the time she emerged but the sun was warm overhead and Lyndsay had spread a blanket on the sand. She patted the spot next to her, wrapping Belle in a warm blanket that materialized out of another bag as if by magic.

Lyndsay began to comb Belle’s hair out, humming a tune a bit out of key as the sun and sand warmed them both. “I’m so happy Robbie has taken a wife. How long have you two been married?”

“Five days,” Belle admitted, almost unbelieving it herself. She told Lyndsay about the wedding, leaving out their unlikely courtship and their mishap the night before. She did not hold back her obvious love for her husband, every other word was colored by it, and by the end of her story, Lyndsay was beaming.

“It’s so nice to know...he found someone who loves him,” Lyndsay sighed. “I remember when he was born...Fiona was so proud…”

Her interest piqued, Belle leaned forward. “He doesn’t speak of her often. He told me...she left him.”

Lyndsay’s joy slid off her face. Her hands, swollen with age and calloused with years of toil, were folded in her lap. “Fiona was ill,” she said after a pause. “We begged her to leave him with us...but...she said he would have the chance of a better life with his father.” Lyndsay sniffled. “I don’t know if she truly believed that or if she just hoped…”

“What happened to her?”

Lyndsay offered her a watery smile. “She died that winter. We were with her…”

“He thinks...he thinks she didn’t want him...that- Why wouldn’t she have told him she was dying?”

“Fiona made us swear...if Robbie found his way back here we would never tell him. he wouldn’t understand. but, “and here, Lyndsay held up her finger, “we could tell his wife, mother of his children, for she would understand.”

“But he was married before me-”

Lyndsay scoffed. “Ah, yes. He invited us to that wedding but we declined. Anyone with a brain could see he was marrying her out of duty, out of expectation. His mother had wanted more for him than that. We wanted more for him than that.”

Belle did not know if Lyndsay and Glynis knew about Gold’s troubled past but here in the sun, she did not want to bring up her husband’s pain to one of the few others in this world that loved him as much as she did.

Belle reached out to clasp Lyndsay hand in her own. “I love Robert, and I will always do what’s best for him,” Belle promised her.

Lyndsay smiled. “I know,” she said, patting her hand. “Now, let’s get you back home before Glynis tears the house down around Robbie’s ears.”

\--

They stayed for a day. Glynis had found a Swansea merchant group to take them back to Avonlea. They said their goodbyes at the gate. Lyndsay crying happily as Glynis sighed and shooed them away. “They need to get back,” Belle heard her say. “The cottage is too small for four people.”

Gold leaned down to whisper in Belle’s ear, “She just wants Lyndsay to herself again. Auntie Glynis has never been good at sharing.”

Belle glanced back and found the women were holding hands as they waved from the front door. “Oh,” she said, and then as realization clicked in, “Oh!”

Gold chuckled. “The village prefers to think of them as spinster sisters but I’ve never known a love quite as strong as theirs.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead at these words, and Belle had to bite back the words on the tip of her tongue.

Following the same path they had taken, the group arrived at the smoking wreckage of the house mid-afternoon of the first day. Belle lingered in the wagon, scanning the tree line in case anyone had been left behind as lookouts as Gold combed through the ashes of their honeymoon hideaway.

At one point, in the still half standing barn, he paused and bent down. When he straightened, he had something clutched in his hand. It gleamed silver and after a moment of staring at it, he turned and marched back to the wagons. As he climbed back up into the seat with her, he wordlessly showed her what he had found. A silver case...like a lord would have for his calling cards. Belle took it from him and flipped it open.

Inside, the name Lord Killian Jones stared back up at her. His cards were neat and orderly, and damning. Gold took the case back from her and slipped it in his pocket. “We’ll deal with it when we get home,” was all he said and then fell back into silence.

It took them three days to get back to Avonlea. The merchants kept to themselves for the most part, so Belle and Gold sat in the back of the wagons, sifting through the treasures. They did not talk about his parents or his past. No mention of the mine or quarry came up nor did Killian Jones.

In the evenings, they slept out under the stars, far enough away from the group so they would not be overheard as they came together again and again but close enough that they could sleep easy. Belle wondered if the men who had attacked them were still looking for them or if they had assumed (or hoped) they had been burned to death in the fire.

When they arrived at Askham Hall, Dove was on the steps. Gold helped Belle down from the carriage, both in village clothes, encrusted in three days worth of dirt and dust from their travels. “Welcome home, Lord and Lady Gold,” Dove said as held the door open for them.

They went upstairs and before the door was even closed behind them, Belle was pulling off her boots. “I’m going to ring for a bath,” she decided. “The hottest bath in the world.”

She looked over but Gold was at the window, gazing out across Avonlea in the direction of Jones’ residence. Belle moved to wrap her arms around him from behind, resting her cheek against his back. “What are you going to do about Lord Jones?”

Belle did not like prodding this open wound but she knew if she did not, Gold would not tell her his plans. He was still a private man at heart, and Belle knew he did not like her to see his baser emotions.

“I’ll go the magistrate with the evidence. Jones will be arrested and if he can’t come up with some explanation...he’ll be in serious trouble with the law.”

“Lords often get away with quite a bit,” Belle said quietly. “Will his wealth and power protect him?”

“Not from me,” Gold said and his voice was ice. “If he is behind the attempt on our lives, I will see to it he faces justice.”

“If?” Belle said as she pulled him around to face her.

He pressed a kiss to her pouting lips. “Call for a bath,” he whispered. “I know you are probably dying to go see Mary Margaret and tell her all about our adventures.”

“I would like to see how David is doing,” she admitted. They had been gone a week now, and now that he mentioned it, she would dearly like to see some friendly faces. “He’ll be out of work for a few weeks. I had mentioned I would bring him some books from the library for him to peruse while he heals.”

He kissed her again. “Then we will spend the afternoon together in the bath.” He kissed down her neck and then left a searing kiss on where her shirt gaped open around her collar bone.

Belle did so happily as Gold slipped to his dressing room to disrobe. Except, he slipped out the door, went down to the library and jotted a note.

_Jones: I must speak with you alone. At half past seven this evening. At the mine. Or wherever you prefer. Name the time and place as long as it is soon. Lonsdale._

He sealed it and rang for Dove, just as he saw some maids making their way up the stairs with buckets of steaming hot water. Dove appeared within seconds and Gold handed over his letter. “Have this taken to Lord Killian Jones.”

Dove’s eyes flickered to the clock on the mantle. “He’s most likely at the mine, sir.”

“Try there first then, but the messenger should wait for an answer. And Dove?” The butler paused. “Don’t tell anyone about this. Especially not Lady Lonsdale.’

Dove nodded, a bit hesitant and disappeared.

Gold made his way back up to his dressing room. There was nothing to be done until Jones responded so he was going to spend his next few hours as he damned well pleased. Naked. In a bath. With his wife.


	29. Chapter 29

After a luxurious afternoon spent exploring the various different opportunities available in a bathtub, they dozed for a bit before sharing a light meal in their rooms.

“I should go down to the village before it gets dark,” Belle said with a heavy sigh. Gold gave her one last kiss before she donned her bonnet and headed to the stables. The groom had already gotten her pony cart set up, but her heart twisted at the unfamiliar pony leading the cart. She hoped wherever Chip had ended up, he would be happy and cared for.

Belle was almost to the gates when she realized she had forgotten the books for David. She chided herself, too dazed from an afternoon of lovemaking to remember the very reason for her trip to Avonlea.

She headed back to the front of the house. Not wanting to call Dove to hold the reins, she wrapped them around a granite urn by the stairs and hoped the pony wouldn’t be too impatient to wander off. She hurried to the library, wondering if her husband had retired here to relax but there was no sign of him.

She selected a few volumes that she knew David would like and was in the process of leaving when a flash of light from Gold’s desk caught her eye. She paused in the door, torn between leaving before it got much later and investigating.

The light flashed again as clouds passed outside. Giving in, Belle went to the desk to find a chunk of quartz and twisted silver laying out upon the desk. She had not seen it before but she knew it was the very piece of evidence that Gold and David had risked their lives for...the mission that had triggered Jones’ to revamp the mine with new equipment and the reason why she was now Lady Gold.

Belle put down the books and picked up the precious stone. She turned it over in her hand, admiring the wire silver. It did not surprise her that Gold had kept it. He was oddly sentimental in that way.

She was about to set it down on the paper it had been holding when she saw the name Jones. Swallowing, Belle put the silver down and picked up the letter which had been underneath it.

_7 tonight, at the slate quarry, alone. Jones._

Disbelief rose up in her until she was shaking with it. Gold had assured her he was going to the law- but this...this was the night at Jefferson’s all over again. Another duel- without seconds or witnesses this time.

“The absolute bastard!” Belle seethed, panic and fear lost under the tidal wave of righteous fury. If Gold went alone, even just to talk- she could be a widow by morning.

And he had lied to her. Smoothly. Easily. Naturally.

She whirled and raced for the stables. The head groom stopped dead as she raced across the lawn. “Lady Gold,” he said, craning his neck to see where her pony cart had gone. “Where’s-’

“Did Lord Lonsdale go out?” she demanded breathlessly.

“Right after you did, my lady,” he confirmed, pointing in the direction of the slate quarry.

“Saddle a horse,” she ordered. “And a regular saddle.”

Despite her day dress, the groom did not argue. He disappeared into the stables, leaving Belle alone with her thoughts. Her stomach was tied in knots. She was torn between worry and fury.

The groom brought out a chestnut mare to the mounting block and Belle swung into the saddle. Her skirt bunched up around her knees, calves bared. The groom coughed, working up his nerve to suggest a side saddle. “The pony cart is tied to the front steps,” she said before he could speak. “I won’t be needing it.”

She did not wait for him to respond, but dug her heels in and headed off into the afternoon sun. She was not far behind Gold, she could still catch up to him before he reached the quarry.

\--

Jones was already at the quarry when Gold arrived. He was squatting amongst the slate, inspecting it. At the noise of Gold’s horse, he straightened casually, but his face was grim. “You’re late,” he growled as Gold dismounted.

“Tick tock,” Gold said as he tethered his horse to the nearest tree. “You always were obsessed with being on time.” Gold had not brought a pistol, but he had not wanted to come entirely defenseless. He had a single blade strapped to his side, hidden by his coat. The two of them stood fifteen feet apart.

“Did you come here to prod me into killing you?” Jones queried.

“Have you not been trying?” Gold asked. “You’ve put Belle’s life in danger.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about-”

“The day after you returned to Avonlea, I was riding with Belle when a bullet grazed my horse.”

Jones shook his head. “I wouldn’t have missed.”

“Exactly my thoughts,” Gold said with a nod. “Problem is, I don’t know anyone else who would want to kill me. I chalked it up to a poacher until…” Gold’s voice hardened. “My wife and I were ambushed at a traveler’s hut during our country honeymoon. The hut was set afire at midnight, while five men stood outside with rifles to shoot us if we tried to flee.”

Jones jaw dropped. “You- how in God’s name could you have survived something like that-?”

“The luck of the damned, I suppose.” Gold flipped the silver case to Killian. “I believe this belongs to you.”

Jones barely caught it. “What are you doing with my card case?” he exclaimed, eyes flashing in annoyance. “Have you been progressed to trespassing in my home?”

“I found it in the ashes of the ambush. In a court of law, that would be enough to hang you.”

Jones’ hook rose to his neck as if feeling the noose. He faltered. “If you’re threatening me-”

Gold’s temper snapped. “I’m trying to get to the bottom of this, Killian! I don’t think you the type of man to hide behind hired bandits.”

“I would not mind you dead but I had nothing to do with an ambush. As for this, my card case went missing several days ago...I hardly carry it here in Avonlea so I wasn’t sure if I had left it in London or…” He shrugged as he pocketed it. “Well, it is now mine again. And no longer evidence to use against me.”

“You damned fool,” Gold said with a shake of his head. “Someone is trying to kill me and pin the blame on you.”

Jones’ eyes narrowed in confusion. “For what purpose?”

“How am I supposed to know-”

They were interrupted by the sound of pounding hooves. Both men reached for their weapons as Belle broke through the trees, hair and skirt flying. She swung down off her saddle, nearly on top of her husband. He quickly pushed her behind him as the horse moved off to graze nearby.

Jones chuckled. “Can’t control your wife, Lonsdale?”

“You’ve never been married, have you?” Belle shot back over Gold’s shoulder.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Gold growled at her. “It’s not safe.”

“And it’s safe for you?” Belle demanded, poking him in the chest. “He wants to kill you!”

“While accurate,” Killian called out,” we were just discussing how I had no involvement or knowledge in the previous two attempts on his life.”

“We saw you!” Belle insisted, brushing off the hand Gold laid on her shoulder. “Your card case was in the ashes-”

“An inspired touch, if I do say so myself.” Peeling away from the treeline, Gaston materialized before them, his rifle trained directly on her. Gold made a sharp movement but Gaston’s finger tightened on the trigger. “I wouldn’t move I I was you,” he warned Gold. “Step over towards Lord Killian there, slowly.”

Belle stared down the long, narrow barrel of the rifle. “Do what he says,” Gold whispered to her as he started to back over to Jones.

“Good advice,” Gaston said as he stepped closer. At this range, he could not miss. Belle’s knees were trembling but she forced herself to appear unaffected. “I hadn’t planned on you being here,” he said to her as if they were talking at a church meeting. “The note said to come alone but you never did know when you weren’t wanted.”

Jones was losing his patience. “Gaston, what is the meaning of this?”

Gaston grabbed Belle by the arm and swung her around to where she pressed against him. “Raise your hands in the air,” he ordered. Gold slowly took his hand out of his coat, have been reaching for his pistol no doubt. “You too, cripple,” Gaston sneered and Jones slowly raised both his hand and hook.

“Gaston,” Gold warned. “If you touch a hair on my wife’s head-”

“As I said, I had not planned on her being here. I told that band of idiots that I wanted you dead by any means necessary. I hadn’t counted on them being quite so conniving as to burn down an entire house around your ears...would have looked too much like an accident for you both to burn. Besides,” he nuzzled his face into Belle’s hair and inhaled deeply. “Then, I would not have gotten to know the sounds you make when I’m inside you, my dear.”

Gold’s face twisted into a snarl. “You’re a dead man, Gaston.”

The mine manager's grip tightened on Belle’s arm until she squeaked, eyes watering. Gold took a step forward but Gaston pressed the barrel of the rifle until her chin and he froze. Belle’s bottom lip trembled but she kept her eyes firmly on her husband. If his face was the last thing she saw in this world, so be it.

“What does all this have to do with me?” Jones drawled with his hook and hand still in the air. “I really couldn’t care if you killed Gold, in fact, I would give you a raise.”

“Bastard,” Gaston hissed. “As I needed anything from you. You’ve been off fighting Frenchies while I’ve been here. Sinking my entire life and soul and blood into the mine. I made it what it is today. One of the most profitable mines in Wales.”

Jones scoffed. “Hardly that profitable from what I’ve seen.”

Gaston laughed and the barrel of the gun fell away from Belle’s chin as it dropped back to his side. “Fool! Too busy whoring and gaming to notice you were being cheated.”

“And what do I care about your measly profits?” Jones asked. “You’ve run the mine into the ground. Once I’ve finished cleaning up your mess, then I can take you to court over embezzling but until then-”

Gaston threw Belle to the ground and aimed his rifle at Jones. “You should have stayed in France where you belong.”

Belle’s left side stung from the impact of hitting the ground but she remained motionless where she had fallen. Jones was provoking Gaston, drawing his rage to him, and it was working.

“If your issue is with us,” Gold chimed in, “let Belle go.”

Gaston scoffed. “Oh, no. I don’t think so. You see, up until you returned, Belle was mine. The pit was mine. Avonlea was mine. I had everything until you two showed back up.” He spat on the ground, inches from Belle. “Imagine my relief when I saw you fighting the day of the collapse. You see, if Jones were to die from an unforeseeable accident...the mine would pass back to Gold, the holder of the land deed. But if Gold was to die at Jones’ hand….”

The land would be held in trust. Gaston would continue to manage the mine while Lord Jones went behind bars for the rest of his life, which would possibly not be for too long if he was found guilty of murder.

“But improvisation is a sign of a clever man,” Gaston continued. “I’ll simply shoot you both. A duel gone badly. And as for the lady,” Gaston turned to glance down at her. He sighed as if over a glass of spilled ale.“A pity. I would have had her for my own enjoyment for at least a year or two but there’s nothing for it now. She found your body and half-mad with grief, she shot herself with your still smoking pistol.”

“If you kill them both, the mine will go to the next of kin,” Belle reminded him. “You’ll lose everything.”

“Ah, but Jones' last will and testament has a nice little amendment now. As a reward for my years of faithful service, Lord Jones has left his mining company, Bryn Manor and five thousand pounds to his trusted servant.”

A wiser man would have shot them all by now, but Gaston was enjoying this. His rifle was aimed down as he sneered at his victims, Belle all but forgotten there on the ground. She looked to Gold and without glancing down at her, he tilted his head down just slightly.

Next to him, Jones' fingers twitched, his gaze locked firmly on Gaston as well. Belle hesitated for a second, but she had no plans to die here today.

“I love you, Belle,” Gold called out before she could move. “I should have said it sooner.”

His words startled her so much she almost missed it for the signal. Distracted, Gaston was opening his mouth to sneer something about sentimentality when Belle kicked out, knocking Gaston’s legs out from under him.

His rifle went flying from his grip as he crashed into the ground beside her. He was already scrambling, grabbing for her, blood spurting from his mouth as he clawed at her skirts. “You bitch!” he hissed. He was on keeping her between himself and a bullet, knowing Gold wouldn’t dare shoot if he might hit her.

Jones, as it happened, had no such problem. There was a crack of gunpowder and Gaston froze, his glasses slipping off his nose as he shuddered on top of her. His eyes were large, gazing down at her before the light went out of them and he collapsed on top of her.

Blood seeped into the fabric of her dress but Belle dared not move, wondering if she too had been hit as she went utterly cold. Someone grabbed her and hauled out from underneath the dead man, Gold patting her over, frantically.

“I’m okay,” she managed, clutching at his shoulders to hold her upright. “I’m okay.”

After another moment of inspecting her, Gold was satisfied enough to whirl around to Jones. “You bastard!” he exclaimed. “You could have killed her!”

“I don’t miss,” Jones said as he lowered his pistol.

Belle put her hand on her husband’s chest, feeling his heartbeat racing under his jacket. Her hand was covered in blood but Gold clutched it over his own heart, squeezing life back into her numb fingers as he glanced back down at her.

“Now that that’s dealt with,” Jones said and he raised his pistol until it was aimed at Gold. “Step away from your wife, Lonsdale.”


	30. Chapter 30

Gold growled. “For God’s sake, man”

“We are going to settle what brought us here tonight. Gaston was an idiot and he got what he deserved. If it calms you, I have no intention of hurting your wife.”

Gold stepped away. Belle tried to follow him but he held out his hand to still her. Her face was splattered with blood, blue eyes filled with tears. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and whisk her back home but all he could do was slowly move until they all stood in a triangle, each about ten feet apart from the other.

With the sun almost to the horizon, Gold could see Jones’ eyes were wild. The violence that had unfolded minutes ago had triggered the bloodlust of the soldier, possibly past the point of any and all reason. Gold contemplated rushing him, but at this distance, Jones could still turn his pistol on Belle and Gold didn’t dare provoke him to that course of action.

“If you kill my husband, I will see you hanged, Lord Jones,” Belle swore.

“Belle!” Gold snapped but she ignored him.

“Rightly so,” Jones agreed with a nod. “But that does not matter. Gold, throw your pistol over here.”

“Don’t do it!”

“Promise me you won’t hurt a hair on her head,” he said, memorizing her face one last time.

Jones let out a muffled chuckle that turned into a swear. “You ask that of me? After what you did?”

Jones was beside himself. Gold had never seen the other man's hand shake but the pistol was wavering as he tried to keep it aimed. “What did I do, Jones?” he asked quietly. “I have committed many sins, but my last request is to know which one will send me to hell.”

“Damn you!” Jones swore and his eyes were filling with tears. “I promised justice would be done, never dreaming I would have to uphold my vow...and when the time came...I couldn’t do it. You robbed me of it. Fleeing before I could avenge...” He held up his hook. “I lost a hand for not fulfilling my vow and so I have come back here, to where it started to do what I swore I would.”

“To whom did you swear this vow?”

“To the only woman I ever loved.” Killian's voice broke. “Milah.”

Ice filled Gold’s veins as things clicked into place. “You,” he said, voice so low he wasn’t sure if Jones even heard him. “I should have guessed. I was surprised when she chose to stay here instead of returning to London.” Gold swallowed. “I should have realized. You two were perfect for each other. Or at least she would have had you believe that.”

“Do not speak of her that way!” Jones shouted, his voice strangled. “We loved each other from the first time we met!” Killian’s face went white with guilt. “I tried to stay away but we couldn’t stay apart.”

“You were just another one of her pawns,” Gold said with disgust.

“We were in love!” Killian insisted, his fingers white against the handle of the pistol. “You pushed her away, mistreated her. She showed me the bruises covering her body. I held her in my arms as she cried, telling me about the monster she had married.”

“She was manipulating you.”

“She was terrified of you. She feared for her life and I promised her that if she was ever to die mysteriously, I would avenge her. I gave her my word- never dreaming I would have to carry it out. I did not think you capable of murder. But there was no denying you were violent with her-”

“As her lover, surely you noticed Milah liked things rough? I stopped taking her to bed when I noticed bruises I had not inflicted. By the time she made it in your bed, I had not touched her in over a year.”

“So you killed her to escape your marriage!”

“She died in a coach accident because she insisted the driver go too fast in a storm,” Belle interrupted. “It overturned and she drowned before the coachman could get to her-”

“I had nothing to do with it,” Gold said, drawing Jones’ attention back to him.

“She was fleeing you!” Jones insisted. “Fleeing the sight of you bedding your father’s wife!” Jones’ face was dripping sweat but he could not wipe it away with his hook so it dripped into his eyes. “Did you know...she was...pregnant when she died?”

“Not surprising,” Gold murmured. “Do you think it was yours?”

“It was mine!” Killian exclaimed. “I begged her to leave you, but she refused out of a sense of honor-”

“She was my father’s mistress.”

Everything else faded away. Gold had never meant to tell anyone the truth. Too disgusted by it but there was no hope for it. If he wanted to live to see another day, to wake up beside Belle, to make a new life for himself, he had to reveal the sordid history that had led him here.

Jones' finger tightened on the trigger. “Liar!”

“Please!” Belle cried out, tears in her voice. “Please don't do this.”

“Will you not at least hear me out?”

Jones wavered. “You have five minutes,” he decided. “Then, we end this.”

“You know my father arranged our marriage and what was not to like? Milah was beautiful, assured, cultured. I believed I would have no issue learning to love such a woman.”

Here, he paused to look to Belle. She had her hands clutched to her chest, gazing unflinchingly at him, supporting him through he knew these words had to be like knives to her heart. He wanted to tell her she was all those things and more but once this was over, he would spend the rest of his life showing her what love truly was.

“The first sign I ignored was the day of my proposal. She confessed she was not a virgin, having been seduced by an older man, a family friend when she had flowered. She wept as she told me the story, not wanting to trap me in a marriage. I believed her. I went so far as to offer to call out the man who had ruined her, but she assured me he was dead. I had no interest in her maidenhead. I wanted a wife and a partner, not a virgin.’

‘This was the first of many excuses I made to convince myself everything was fine. She claimed she loved me… and I hoped to learn to love her...but after a year of marriage, I came to her bed and found her covered in the marks of another man. “ He cast a look at Belle. “She did not deny it. She offered an understanding, the opportunity for us to both bed whomever we liked, whenever we liked. She swore she would not bear a child that was not mine.”

That night had been seared into his memory forever. All hope of a son, an heir, a family had died as she had lounged there in their bed, covered in the love bites of another man.

“I refused her offer and proposed one of my own: fidelity for the rest of our lives. I would forgive her trespasses if she remained in my bed and my bed alone- but she merely laughed at me. So, I left. She swore she would make me regret it,” his gaze turned to Jones, “and she did. This was a year and a month after our wedding. Tell me, Killian, did her love for you overcome her scruples around this same time?”

Jones slowly lowered his pistol.

“I sent her back here to Askham to my father and Regina, trusting they would keep an eye on her. She went much too tamely, happily even.” He shook his head. “I was too relieved to question why. I spent the next few months whoring and drinking my way through London, but it didn’t solve anything. I decided to try again, see if after a few months apart, if maybe here in the country things would be different.”

He let out a hollow laugh. “Instead, I walked in on my wife in bed with my father. He was almost proud to tell me that he had arranged the marriage so he could keep his mistress close by and if Milah did conceive a second son for him, she could pass it off as his grandson.”

“He was an old man,” Killian protested. “With a young wife-”

“My father refused to accept he was growing old. He hated me for reminding him of his age. A young wife, a young mistress and an infant son would fix that nicely. Of course, he didn’t know you were also sleeping with her, right under his nose. As Regina never conceived, I would bet Milah’s child was yours, after all, come to think of it.”

Killian’s face was gray.

“I could have killed them both, but instead, I went to fetch Regina. She was a good woman and did not deserve to be shacked to the monster she married. I planned to take her to London where we would both file for divorce. We would expose them both for exactly what they were.”

“They panicked. Milah fled to you, hoping you would protect her, perhaps even use your unborn child to trap you into marriage but in her haste she doomed herself. As for my father, he had a heart attack in his bed and died alone. When his valet found him, he came to tell his wife and found me and Regina in her rooms. She was clad only in her nightgown and he jumped to his own conclusions.”

Gold hung his head. “By morning, the story was all around Avonlea. Regina and I were colored as the adulterers and my father and Milah died as saints.”

Someone took his hand. Startled, he jerked away but Belle was wrapping her arms around him. “You should have told me,” she said as he wrapped his arms around her. He buried his face in her hair, holding her tightly as the pain and betrayal from all those years ago broke through the carefully constructed walls he had built to keep them at bay.

“You should be on stage,” Jones muttered hoarsely. “You spin a fantastic tale but how do I know it’s not just another of your lies?”

“Go to London. Ask Regina to tell you the story and she’ll tell you the same one. As will her husband. Why would I make up such a humiliating story? I’ve let the entire world think of me as a monster rather than a cuckold. I couldn't even tell my closest friends. Know I wonder how different it would have been if I had. But what’s done is done,” Gold said. While the sting of betrayal was still strong, he would not let Milah ruin any more of his life. He held out his hand. “ It’s time to put the past behind us.”

Jones made a strangled sound but then his hand was gripping Gold’s, strong enough to bruise. As dusk fell around them, Belle was the one who finally broke the silence. “What should we do about…” She cast a look over at Gaston’s body.

“I’ll deal with this,” Killian told them. “I’ll fetch the authorities. I suspect they will want to to talk to you both tomorrow.”

They said their goodbyes. Gold helped Belle up on her horse as Jones headed in the direction of the closest lawman. They left Gaston where he lied. Alone in the dark.

They rode in silence. Gold, too afraid to break the silence, fearing what she might be thinking now that she knew all the ugly truth. “I understand now,” she said quietly. “Why you could not stand to hear me say I love you.’

He shook his head. “You are not Milah. I knew that but… it was still hard to not fear the past repeating. Everyone who has loved me has disappointed me.”

“Your mother?”

He nodded.

Belle wavered for a moment. “Lyndsay told me...she told me your mother was dying. She brought you to your father because she hoped you would have a better life as a lord.”

Gold’s hold faltered on the reins. “What?”

“She loved you, she wanted the best for you...but everyone can make mistakes even when they are doing things out of love.”

They arrived back at the stables. Gold hopped down before he swung Belle out of her saddle. As the grooms hurried out, he cast an arm around her, hiding the blood stains. Belle sagged into him in relief as they made their way back to the house.

Her warmth eased the tension that had been building in him the whole ride home. They were safe now. The worst was behind them. Everything was out in the open.

“Did you mean it?”

He paused. “Mean what?”

Belle bit her bottom lip. “That you love me? Or did you just say that because we were about to die?”

His arms tightened around her and he leaned down to kiss her, searing and passionate. She melted into him, arms coming up to wrap about his neck. He poured all of his fear and hopes into her and she met him every step of the way.

When they finally broke apart, they touched their foreheads together. “I meant it,” he whispered as he intertwined their fingers. “Why did you think I kept threatening to rescind my aid to Avonlea whenever you talked of leaving?”

She smiled at him. “I would have risked everything to be with you.”

He kissed her again. “I did not propose out of duty or honor. I proposed because it scared me to my core to think of a life without you.”

“And you never will have to again.”

He chuckled. “Let’s get you inside and cleaned up.”

“I’ve already had a bath today,” Belle moaned. “The maids will hate me.”

“I’ll call for it this time,” he said, with a mischievous smile. “If you don’t mind me joining you again?”

Belle smiled up at him before pressing up on her toes to kiss him again.


	31. Epilogue

In August, the mine reopened with a new steam lift and a new pumping engine.

Both machines mixed in with the music and laughter at the outdoor reception. Flowers and candles were strewn around tables as the townsfolk gathered to celebrate the start of a new era. Children were underfoot, playing in the darkness as the adults gathered to eat and drink.

Some couples were dancing; others were singing. Belle stood at the edge of the dancefloor, waiting for Gold to return from the refreshment table when Jones appeared at her side. “What do you think?” he asked her, looking very pleased with himself.

“You’ve done an amazing job,” Belle said truthfully, and Killian puffed up like a peacock.

“What will you do now?” Gold said, appearing out of the darkness to hand Belle a drink.

“He’ll think of something,” Jefferson said as he followed behind Gold. He and Victor had arrived at Bryn Manor the previous evening for the celebration. Belle had enjoyed teasing Jefferson about missing her wedding but not the closest thing Avonlea would ever have to a ball.

“Where’s Victor?” she asked.

“Trying to take apart the steam pump to see how it works,” Killian said, nodding in that direction. Belle craned her neck to see Victor deep in conversation with the mining engineer. Ruby was nearby, talking to a redheaded traveling doctor, laughing prettily as the young man flushed at the attention.

“Should we go save the engineer?” Gold asked her.

Belle caught sight of Mary Margret in the crowd. “In a moment,” she said and he kissed her on the cheek before she slipped off. Mary Margret was quite pregnant now, sitting at a table as David stood nearby chatting. He was still propped up on crutches but could get around easily. Emma was playing nearby, blonde hair glowing in the torchlight.

“Having fun?” Belle asked as she sat down beside her friend. “Everyone seems so happy.”

“Thanks to you,” Mary Margaret told her. “All of this. It’s because of you.”

Belle blushed a bit, proud and embarrassed all at once. “It was mostly their lordships-”

“But you were the one that had the vision,” Mary Margaret said before she could decline credit. “Though I’m relieved David accepted the job as quarry foreman. Much less dangerous.”

The valley was growing. It promised to be a prosperous, happy place under the leadership of the two young lords. The two old friends chatted for a bit before a group of school children came to demand Mary Margaret's attention. Belle said her goodbyes and returned to her husband.

Victor joined her as she walked. “You are well loved by this community,” he noted as people waved and called out to her.

“They’ve forgiven me for marrying above my station,” she confessed. Belle was part of the community once more and was relieved and touched to find the resentments and biases her fellow Avonleans had about her had melted away as stress and hardship had faded.

“You’ve been busy,” he said, nodding towards the young doctor Ruby was still flirting with. “He’ll be settling here no doubt.”

They joined the group, Gold took Belle in his arms and drew out onto the dance floor. Despite the raucous country song, he held her against him and swayed slowly in one spot. A few people gathered to watch, and a few others even joined in until the band got the hint and started to play a slower, romantic tune. “I love you, Belle Gold,” he whispered into her hair.

“I love you, Robert Gold,” she said in return, stopping to stand still for a moment. She took his hand and lowered it to her stomach. “And so does he.”

For as long as she lived, she would not forget a single moment of their lives together. Not the day they met in his library, the duel in London or the day she had almost lost him in the mine. She would not forget escaping a burning hut or laying in a bed in his childhood retreat or the stand-off at the quarry.

But this moment, as his eyes filled with wonder and his voice faltered and broke as joy overtook him, this moment, as he realized he would be a father and have the family he had always hoped for...this was the moment she would cherish above all others.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks as always to Prissygirl for her thoughts and support throughout the editing process.


End file.
